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TOWARDS    UTOPIA 


BEING    SPECULATIONS    IN 
SOCIAL   EyOLUTION 


BY 

A   FREE   LANCE 

AUTHOR    OF 
THE  CRY  OF  THE  CHILDREN,   ASD  ON  THE  ORGANISATION  OF  SCIENCE 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1894 


Autliorised  Edition. 


THIS,    MY    FIRST    DEDICATION, 

I   NOW   INSCRIBE 

WITH    ALL    LOVE,    LOYALTY,    AND    REVERENCE, 

TO     THE     MEMORY     OF 

MY  MOTHER, 

"THE   MORNING-STAR   OF    MEMORY." 


"  The  blessing  of  my  childhood's  years, 

Lost  to  me  when  a  boy  : 

She  gave  me  eyes,  she  gave  me  ears. 

And  humble  cares,  and  delicate  fears, 

A  lieart— the  fountain  of  sweet  tears, 

And  Love,  and  Thought,  and  iby." 


P^f6, 


PREFACE 


Everybody  is  familiav  with  the  conception  of  Utop'a  ; 
and  many  among  us  believe  that  social  evolution  will 
presently  culminate  in  an  Utopia  where  all  shall  be 
>:ood,  wise,  cultured,  and  affluent :  but,  whilst  we  have 
many  popular  imaginative  descriptions  of  this  comphUd 
future  state,  it  is  perhaps  somewhat  less  usual  to  enquire 
what  precisely  are  some  of  the  individual  natural  pro- 
cesses by  whicli  tiiat  happy  consummation  can  be  brought 
about ;  what,  if  anything,  can  be  done  by  us  of  to-day  to 
hasten  the  progress;  and  ivliat  price^  if  o.ny,  must  he  paid 
for  Utopia. 

The  present  essay  is  a  sample  of  the  kind  of  answer 
which,  as  it  seems  to  us,  must  be  given  to  such  questions  ; 
and  is  occupied  with  the  attempt  to  trace  out.  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  by  what  known  processes,  and  by  what  modi- 
fications of  the  present  social  state,  such  Utopia  may  be 
brought  about.  Thro'out  we  have  endeavored  to  steer 
clear  of  chimerical  and  fanciful  assumptions  that,  how- 
ever legitimate  in  pure  fairy-tales,  and  however  necessary 
thereto,  are  quite  out  of  place  in  speculations  concerning 
an  Utopia  that  is  asserted  to  be  the  destined  outcome  of 
a  natural  evohition  of  Society :  and  we  have  sought  in 
preference  to  shape  our  course  by  the  polestar  of  science. 
Of  one  thing  we  are  convinced — and  to  this  we  need  fear 
little  contradiction — that  the  prime  factor  in  any  revolu- 
tion, or  rather  renovation,  of  society,  must  ever  be  a 
change  in  the  ideas,  feelings,  sympathies,  and  aspirations, 
of  the  individuals  who  compose  that  society ;  the  first 
step  towards  any  advance  must  be  to  thoroly  change  the 
mental  atmosphere  in  which  we  live ;  given  so  much,  and 
the  rest  must  follow,  for  the  world  of   men  is  ruled  by 


vi  ^  Preface. 

thoughts  and  feelings.  If  now  this  brief  essay  should  be 
succssful  in  inducing  any  appreciable  change  in  the  ideals 
and  aspirations  of  its  readers,  if  it  should  to  any  extent 
induce  them  to  look  on  the  world  of  men  with  somewiiat 
ditierent  eyes  and  to  reject  any  proffered  social  ideals 
that  involve  darkened  lives  to  some  of  their  fellows,  then 
we  shall  deem  our  labor  richly  rewarded. 

We  may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  observe  that  we  have 
never  yet  read  Looking  Backvmrd,  or  any  other  books 
of  that  class,  except,  some  years  ago,  More's  Utopia  : 
whilst,  with  regard  to  Mr.  Morris'  LecUu-es  on  Art,  as  we 
have  explained  in  notes  in  tiie  body  of  this  work,  we  had 
not  the  pleasure  of  reading  that  deligiiti'ul  book  until  six 
or  eight  months  after  the  original  dratt  of  this  essay  was 
completed.^  In  revising  it,  however,  and  in  rewriting 
chapters  nine  and  ten,  we  have  taken  the  opportunity  to 
introduce  specifically  in  several  places  Mr,  Morris'  own 
term,  nmpUcity,  which  so  thoroiy  expresses  the  ideas 
which  had  guided  us  thro'out :  and  we  should  perhaps 
add  that  the  reference  at  the  close  of  chapter  nine  to 
Love  in  a  Cot  was  the  outcome  of  a  train  of  reflections 
that  had  been  started,  partly  by  Mr.  Morris'  book,  and 
partly  by  studies  of  Greek  life.  It  were  clearly  super- 
fluous to  express  in  detail  our  acknowledgments,  in  this 
work  also,  to  Herbert  Spencer,  for  the  general  conceptions 
of  social  evolution  that  wo  have  derived  from  his  Study  of 
Sociology,  his  Data  of  Ethics,  and  iiis  political  and  social 
essays, 

A  FREE  LANCE. 
London,  March  16,  1893. 

P.S. — We  have  taken  the  opportunitv  to  insert  several 
fresh  illustrations  that  have  coaie  under  our  notice  during 
tne  last  twelve  mouths. 

A2yril  4,  1894. 

'  Tlie  bulk  of  this  essay  was  written  in  tlie  sprinc;  of  1892  ;  but, 
besides  a  general  revision,  the  ninth  eh.4)Lcr  was  almost  eu- 
tirely  rewiit  en  with  veiy  considerable  additions,  and  nearly  the 
waoie  of  tue  luiuh  cliapter  added,  early  in  1893. 


CONTENTS 


Chap.  Pagq 

I.   r.itioductorv  and  Pessimistic      -        -        -        -  i 

II.  On  Utopias 5 

III,  Universal  Honesty  the  Best  Policy    -        -        -  lo 

IV.  The  Great  Servant-Question      -        -        -        -  26 
V.  A  Digression  upon  Caste-Sympathy  -         -         -  60 

VI.  The  Servant-Question  and  the  True  Democratic 

Spirit :  including  Advice  upon  Gardening      -       71 
VII.  Manual  and    Mental    Work,    or    the    Utopian 
Division    of  Labor ;    with    an   Enquiry    into 

Genius 87 

VIII.  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory      -         -         -         -     109 
IX.  On  Choosing  the  Least  Evil  ;  with  Farther  Re- 
marks upon  Luxury  and  Waste      -        -        -     123 
X.  The  Euthanasia  of  Certain  Unnecessary  Trades  ; 
the  Functions  of  Middlemen  ;  the  Readjust- 
ment of  Occupations  ;  and  the  Economics  of 

Unproductive  Labor 177 

XI.  The  Problem  of  Unpleasant  Occupations  ;  and 

the  Apotheosis  of  Manual  Work     -         -         -     203 

XII.  On  Co-operation         .-.-.-     229 

XIII.  God  the  Almighty  Dollar  -        -        -        -        -     236 


"  I  will  not  cease  from  mental  fight, 

Nor  shall  my  lance  sleep  in  my  hand, 
Till  we  have  bnilt  Jerusalem 

In  England's  green  and  pleasant  land," 


"  I  pray  thee,  then. 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men. 


TOWARDS    UTOPIA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY  AND  PESSIMISTIC. 

"  What  is  all  of  it  worth     .     .     .     .      ? 
^^'hat  is  it  all,  if  we  all  of  us  end,  but  iu  being  our  own  corpse 

coffins  at  last, 
Swallowed  in  vastness,  lost  in  silence,  drowned  in  the  deeps  of 

a  meaningless  past  ? 
What  but  a  murmur  of  gnats  in  tlie  gloom,  or  a  moment's  anger 

of  bees  in  their  hive — ? — " 

"  We  have  foreknown  the  vanity  of  Hope, 
Foreseen  our  Harvest,  yet— procede  to  live  ! " 

"  Hope — and  a  renovation  without  end,"  were  the 
buoyant  words  that  broke  from  Wordsworth's  lips  when 
he  gazed  upon  his  child.  "  Hope — and  a  renovation 
without  end  "  ;  do  they  not  embody  the  dreams  of  every 
parent  whose  loving  pride  pictures  the  unclosed  vista  of 
an  yet-to-be  opening  away  before  his  dear  one  ?  And 
with  characteristically  human  blindness  to  staring  facts, 
and  with  that  extraordinary  ability  (at  which  one  can 
never  cease  wondering)  to   ignore  the   hugest  and  most 


2  Introductory  and  Pessimistic. 

aggressively  plain  lesson  of  existence,  we  proclaim  by 
word  and  act  onr  faith  in  a  renovation  without  end. 
Sweet  indeed  it  is  to  see  a  lovely  bud  unfolding  daily 
before  our  eyes,  and  daily  yielding  richer  promise  of 
coming  glories  ;  grand  it  is  to  train  and  guide  the  young 
mind,  feeling  well  assured  that  there  awaits  it  a  glorious 
prime ;  and  inspiring  and  consolatory  to  him,  whose  own 
life  has  been  clouded  and  seared,  to  realise  prophetically 
the  golden  times  that  await  his  dear  ones,  and  to  paint 
in  fancy  their  joys — advanced  how  much  by  himself  thro 
toil  and  sorrow  !  But  here — in  our  rank  idiocy — we 
ever  stop,  satisfied  when  from  the  watch-tower  of  oar 
aery  castle  we  have  descried  our  successor  attain  prime 
manhooil,  crowned  with  hT)iior,  riches,  love,  and  renown  ; 
and  with  obstinate  pigheadedness  we  won't  look  any 
farther.  Yet  in  some  inmost  core  of  common  sense  we 
know  perfectly  well  that  there  is  an  inevitable  sequel  to 
this  joyous  progress  ;  a  stage  when  our  hero,  havini^ 
reached  with  glory  the  summit  of  manhood,  bej^ins  his 
decline  into  the  hated  shade  of  old  age — when  one  by 
one  all  his  talents,  faculties,  honors,  and  strength,  must 
drop  from  him,  and  he  slide  into  helpless  paralysed 
dotage  consunmiated  by  death.  All  this  we  do  really 
know — if  only  we  would  allow  ourselves  to  tell  it  to 
ourselves  ;  but  we  won't  :  we  prefer  lies  :  we  prefer  to 
ignore  the  luhole  truth  and  to  plan  and  plot  for  our  child 
as  tho  no  certain  Nemesis  of  age  and  death  awaited  his 
happiness — acliieved.  Are  we  not  fools  to  exult  for 
him  ?     Where  is  the  lasting  good  ? 

Then  reilect:  as  is  an  individual,  so  is  finally  the  race: 
common  to  both  are  childhood,  youtli,  prune  manhood, 


Introductory  and  Pessimistic.  3 

and  decline  into  death  ;  and  equally  futile  is  it  to  con- 
trive with  anxious  care  the  fleeting  happiness  of  either  ! 

It  follows  then — alas  !  how  mournful  a  confession — 
that  all  these  succeding  pages  of  buoyant  hopes  and 
joyous  prophecies  are  blind  folly,  imaging  a  futile 
victory  ;  yet  are  such  auguries,  we  confess,  a  very 
constant  theme  with  us — their  fulfilment  as  earnestly 
yearned  for  as  is  their  foretaste  sweet.  But,  being 
unable  to  ignore  staring  facts,  we  are  mournfully  con- 
sciuus  how  vain  and  illusory  are  our  hopes  ;  since,  once 
the  acme  of  humanity  attained,  there  must  follow  (if  not 
from  internal  causes,  at  any  rate  from  physical  environ- 
ments) decline,  degeneration,  and  death. 

Humanity's  perfection  will  prove  to  be  only  the 
halting  halfway-house  whence  are  beheld  in  retrospect 
primeval  barbarism,  and  in  prospect  terminal  barbarism. 
To  use  a  favorite  expression — Huxley's  simile — existence 
is  a  double  cone.  Once  earth  bore  only  infusoria  :  once 
again  she  shall  bear  only  infusoria  :  and  then  whirl  thro 
space  a  dead,  cold,  barren,  world — another  moon.  To 
the  race  as  to  the  individual  is  assigned  a  certain  death. 
So  that  optimist  and  meliorist  evolutionists,  who  paint 
in  such  glowing  colors  the  glories  assigned  to  a  future 
humanity,  are  every  wiiit  as  absurd  and  wilfully  short- 
sighted as  the  typical  parent  we  have  been  instancing, 
who  indulges  so  freely  in  dreams  for  his  children  and 
won't  face  the  certainty  that  their  bliss  must  be  transient 
and  yield  to  death. 

After  all  then,  what  is  all  of  it  worth  %  How  much 
better  could  we  all  altogether  cease  to-day  by  some 
cosmic  convulsion,  and  so  die  with  "  Hope  and  despair — 


4  Intrcductory  and  Pessiviistic. 

the  torturers  "  for  five.  Since  however  tliut  cousuiinna- 
tion  is  not  vouchsafed,  we  must  toil  on  wearily,  and 
mechanically  perform  our  j^arts  in  this  existence-farce  ; 
and,  since  hope  and  care  are  among  our  parts,  we — who 
non  ignore  the  facts,  and  feel  the  full  weariness  of  our 
play — yet  continue  in  the  dull  mechanic  round  of  in- 
dulging hopes  that  are  vain  tho  fulfilled,  and  of  labour- 
ing to  build  for  others  an  edifice  that  time  shall  wreck. 
And  so,  in  full  consciousness  of  our  absurdity,  we  nurse 
our  speculations  of  human  happiness  irrevocably  denied 
to  us  and  our  generation  :  and  these  disjointed  dreams 
and  hopes  have  taken  somewhat  this  form. 


CHAPTER    TT. 


ON    UTOPIAS. 

"  To  \yhom  this  world  of  Life 
Ts  as  a  garden  ravaged  ;  and  who  e  strife 
Tills  for  the  promise  of  a  later  birth 
Tho  wilderness  of  this  Elysian  earth.'' 

"A  brighter  morn  awaits  tlie  human  day,' 


_EvER  since  the  days  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  Utopia  hag 
been  a  familiar  name:  and  "Utopian  fa.ncy "  is  the 
comment  with  which  alike  the  heartless  unimaginative 
Philistine,  and  the  cool-headed  reasoner,  dismiss  the 
enger  schemes  of  too  enthusiastic,  too  unpractical, 
well  -  meaning  —  nay,  best  -  meaning  —  philanthropists. 
Yet  tho  More  may  have  introduced'  this  name,  he 
did  not  introduce  this  conception  of  a  model  state 
administered  by  philosophers.  Two  thousand  years 
before  More,  Plato  had  delineated  his  ideal  Republic : 
and  Plato's  Republic  and  More's  Utopia  have  their 
successors  at  the  present  day. 

The  tired  heart  of  Humanity  yearns  mightily  for 
a  happy,  good,  and  peaceful,  consummation  to  its 
centuries   of    blood,    persecution,   torture,    warfare,  and 

S 


6  On   Utopias. 

anguish ;  and  eagerly  follows  after  those  imaginative 
prophets  who  soothe  it  with  swoet  fairy  tales  of  perfect 
states  located  in  unknown  seas.  Humanity  listens  and 
slumbers  awhile  to  the  harsh  realities  of  actual  life, 
lapped  in  precious  dreams  of  renovated  Earth :  but  too 
soon  it  reawakens  and  cries,  "  Ah  yes — most  sweet, 
most  tender — but  only  a  dream;  only  Utupia ;  only 
fairy  tales." 

But  must  this  ever  be?  Is  it  fated  that  the  good, 
descried  by  humanity's  prophets  from  the  Pisgah 
heights  of  their  prescient  intellect,  is  but  a  mirage, 
a  phantasy,  an  unrealisal)le  nonentity  1  A  mirage  it  may 
be — but  a  mirage  is  only  possible  if  there  be  a  reality 
somewhere  beyond  :  a  mirage  if  you  like ;  and,  like  a 
mirage,  deceptive,  in  that  the  vision  seems  so  very  near, 
whilst  the  reality  is  so  far  beyond  :  but  yet  it  is  beyond, 
somewhere,  however  far,  if  only  we  have  courage 
enough  to  perseveringly  press  on,  strength  enough 
to  hew  down  the  obstacles,  intelligence  enough  to  see 
the  right  path,  and  purity  and  singleheartedness  enough 
to  keep  it. 

That  men  have  come  to  disbelieve  in  Utopia  is  not 
altogether  strange :  for  after  centuries  have  flown  we 
find  it  all-unrealised.  But  do  men  sufficiently  ask 
themselves  ivhy  it  is  unrealised,  or  if  it  be  really 
imi'ealisable  %  Do  they  reflect  that,  tho  it  may  be 
difficult  to  correctly  descry  the  characters  of  that 
distant  Utopia,  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  define  the 
paths  that  alone  can  lead  us  to  it ;  that  there  are  two 
distinct  dangers  to  avoid?  Firstly,  there  is  the  danger 
of    thinking    an     impossible    Utopia,    of    depicting    an 


On  Utopias.  y 

Utopia  such  as   never   can   exist,   heerlless   of  the  fact 
that  even  Utopians  are,  and  ever  must  be,  conditioned  by 
this    life's    environment,    and    that    man    can    conquer 
Nature  only  by  Nature  :  and  secondly,  there  is  the  worse 
danger,  that,  having  descried  a  vision  of  a  real  Utopia 
from    the    mountain-eyrie    of    our    intellect,    we    may 
descending    into    the    plains   aud    marching    on,    take 
plausil)le,     but    utterly    wrong    paths,     that    not    only 
never  never  can  lead  us   to  Utopia,    but    must,  on  the 
contrary,    increase   our   toils   and  wanderings;    so    that, 
after  long  years  of  stubborn    persevering  tracking  thro 
the  dark  woods  and  over  the  craggy  passes,  we  find  that 
we   are  farther   than   ever,    and   must    again   ascend   a 
mountain-outlook  and  map  again  our  course  de  novo. 

The  path  to  Utopia  can  never  be  discovered  until  we 
have  studied  with  earnest  care  the  geography  of  that 
intervening  country:  Utopia's  towers  themselves  can 
never  be  other  than  most  vaguely  viewed  until  we 
have  learned  the  secret  of  constructing  non-refractin^. 
telescopes,  and  dispelling  the  intervening  mists  :  and 
the  army  of  humanity  can  never  be  transported  across 
the  long  interval  of  weary  marching  until  we  have 
studied  the  characters  of  leaders  aud  soldiers  alike,  and 
disciplined  and  educated  our  troops. 

Utopia  can  never  be  rightly  seen  otherwise  than 
by  the  aid  of  science- and  a  true  philosophv  that  teach 
us  to  discriminate  the  possible  aud  practicable  from 
the  mipossible:  the  route  can  never  be  tracked  by 
others  than  by  pilots  soundly  trained  in  physical 
psychological  and  social  science:  and  the  march  can 
never   be   performed    by    aa    army    not    disciplined    and 


8  On   Utopias. 

educated  by  the  teachings  of  science,  esthetics,  and 
ethics.  Too  long  have  we  aheady  been  delayed,  hindered, 
and  misled,  by  the  blind  paths  pointed  out  by  blind 
leaders,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  ti-ue  route  even  if  they 
knew  anything  at  all  of  where  Utopia  lay :  let  us,  in 
the  future,  take  good  heed  that  none  delude  us  again 
into  these  false  bypaths. 

The  one  prime  fallacy  connected  with  so  many  schemes 
of  Utopia  is  that  the  Utopia  is  unscientific  and  impos- 
sible ;  or  that,  if  possible,  the  means  suggested  for  reach- 
ing it  are  vicious  and  impossible  because  unscientific. 
And  we  sliould  remember  that,  having  once  approximately 
satisfied  ourselves  as  to  what  kind  of  place  Utopia 
probably  is,  our  grand  concern  should  then  be  trans- 
ferred to  scrutinising  the  means  of  access  thereto.  The 
one  emphatic  duty  of  Utopian  schemers  now  is  to 
rigorously  criticise  every  suggestion  that  is  made  as  to 
the  route. 

Progress  is — ah — how  yearned  for;  and  to  remain 
stationary,  marking  time,  is  tedious ;  hiit  so  to  remain 
stationary  were  immensely  better  than  to  progress  in 
the  -wrong  direction,  necessitating  a  tedious  and  weari- 
some return. 

Our  only  object  in  the  following  pages  is  to  endeavour 
to  descry  some  few  of  the  landmarks  that  point  the  path 
to  Utopia ;  and^  once  for  all,  let  us  say  that  our  con- 
ception of  Utopia  is  not  as  the  best  imaginable  world,  hut 
the  best  possible.  Humanity  can  never  transcend  the 
conditions  of  existence;  and,  while  death  exists.  Perfect 
Happiness  is  unattainable.  Our  concern  is  therefor 
with  the  least    p  ssible  Imperfect;    and    it   necessarily 

c 


On   Utopias.  9 

follows  that,  to  our  thinking,  Utopia  can  be  reached  only- 
after  a  long  journey  thro  semi-Utopia.  It  will  be  found 
that  our  chief  immediate  concern  lies  with  this  semi- 
Utopia. 


CHAPTER  III. 

UNIVERSAL    HONESTY    THE    BEST    POLICY. 

"  Fe^  Human  Spirit,  bravely  hold  thy  course  ! 
Let  virtiie  teach  thee  firmly  to  pursue 
The  gradual  path  of  an  aspirimi  chanffe." 

"  And  more,  fhiiiJc  well ;  do-well  will  follow  thought ; 
And,  in  tht  fatal  sequence  of  this  world, 
An  evil  thought  may  stain  thy  children's  blood." 

It  lias  been  pointed  out  by  Herbert  Spencer — who  seenis  to 
have  pointed  out  pretty  nearly  everything — that  ideal  men 
are  possible  only  in  an  ideal  state ;  and  conversely  that  a 
perfect  social  state  is  possible  only  when  every  unit  has 
achieved  perfection.  Perfect  happiness  and  well  being 
are  wholly  incompatible  with  the  existence  of  any  vice. 
This  is  one  of  those  grand  principles  that  we  should  do 
well  to  keep  ever  present  in  our  minds  ;  equipped  with 
this  form  of  thought,  we  may  find  almost  daily  in  our 
walks  and  in  our  books,  in  our  business  and  in  our 
pleasure,  ample  matter  for  reflection  ;  it  co-ordinates  and 
illumines  observations  that  are  afforded  by  every  journey 
that  we  take,  every  article  that  we  buy,  every  pleasure 
that  we  enjoy,  every  hardship  tha.t  we  compassionate, 
every  detail  of  our  households,  no  less  than  by  every 
department  of  the  social  whole,  by  every  social  inequality, 
and  by  every  scheme  of  philanthropy  and  education.     In 


Universal  Honesty  tJie  Best  Policy.  1 1 

passing  therefor  to  instance  a  few  such  examples,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  add  that,  whilst  a  perfect  social  state 
implies  not  only  moral  perfection,  but  also  the  command 
over  natural  forces  that  organised  knowledge  confers,  so 
for  its  attainment  are  requisite  not  only  the  moral 
'Perfection  of  individuals  but  also  a  far  more  thoro 
acquaintance  on  their  part  with  the  physical^  mental  and 
social  sciences  and  their  applications.  Yet  if  only  men 
were  unexceptionally  virtuous,  from  what  a  vast  incubus 
of  misery  and  discomfort  (especially  in  little  things  ;  and 
happiness  or  uuhappiness  so  largely  depends  upon  the 
absence  or  presence  of  small  worries)  all  of  us  would  be 
saved  ! 

For  instance  now,  suppose,  pro  argumento,  that  we 
were  all  of  us  decently  honest;  and  consider  tlien  how  much 
misery  would  cease.  And  in  all  these  illustrations  we 
have  to  estimate  the  hedonic  gain  from  a  twofold  stand- 
point ;  fust  as  regards  the  generality  of  mankind,  and 
secondly  as  regards  those  units  whose  more  or  less  un- 
happy occupations  are  necessitated  by  the  crimes  of  others. 
Often,  when  speculating  on  a  state  in  which  all  shall  be 
happy,  the  thought  must  ocour — "  But  happiness  is  im- 
possible for  men  engaged  in  such  and  such  occupations; 
how  can  we  solve  this  perplexity?"  But  the  solution  is 
that  such  occupations  will  vanish  when  honesty  is  uni- 
versal ;  and  thus  we  should  attain  this  double  hedonistic 
gain.  And,  if  you  like,  there  is  a  third  hedonistic  aspect, 
— that  of  those  speculators  who  at  present  worry  them- 
selves into  a  despairful  misery  because  they  daily  see  so 
many  brother-men  chained  down  to  drudgery  and  blank 
monotony. 


12  Universal  Honesty 

Now  let  us  take  a  few  illustrations.  Suppose  tliat  we 
are  railway  travellers.  We  arrive  at  the  station,  and, 
having,  after  loss  of  time  and  temper,  obtained  our 
ticket  of  the  booking-clerk,  we  are  stopped  on  our  way 
to  the  platform  by  a  barrier  where  we  have  to  show  our 
tickets  to  a  ticket-collector  who  snips  them  :  so  too  at 
the  end  of  our  journey  we  are  again  stopped  by  a  ticket- 
collector  who  scrutinises  our  tickets  to  see  that  we  have 
not  come  t(io  far.  Now  here  there  are  at  least  three 
distinct  worries  to  be  considered.  First  of  all  there  are 
the  worries  of  the  booking-clerks  and  ticket-collectors, 
whose  lives  are  one  dreary  tedious  monotony, — doomed, 
as  they  are,  to  a  hopelessly  uninteresting  occupation,  to 
a  lifework  involving  in  itself  (and  not  regarded  as  means 
to  the  end  of  living)  sheer  hedonistic  loss.  Putting  aside 
altogether  the  worries  of  the  ridiculous  philanthropist 
who  worries  himself  because  such  worries  exist,  we  have 
secondly  the  worries  of  the  rail  way -travellers  themselves, 
who  are  perpetually  losing  trains  because  there  is  a  long 
queue  of  passengers  at  the  booking-offices  or  the  barrier, 
and  who  are  annoyed  by  being  awakened  at  intervals  to 
show  their  tickets.  Thirdly  we  have  this  very  serious 
fconomic  worry,  that  many  thousands  are  thus  em})loyed 
in  utterly  unpi-oductive  labour :  from  an  economic  stand- 
point their  work  is  absolutely  wasted,  and  there  is  no  set 
off  of  any  sort,  since  neither  themselves  nor  anybody  else 
gets  the  slightest  satisfaction  out  of  their  labour.  If 
any  one  consider  iiow  many  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
railway  stations  there  arc  in  England  alone,  and  how 
many  ticket-clerks  and  collectors  employed  in  each,  he 
will    have  vividly  brought    home    to  him   the  fact  that 


The  Best  Policy.  jj 

many  thousands  of  men,  in  this  one  direction  alone, 
are  absorbed  in  absolutely  unproductive  labour:  they 
are  a  standing  army  of  labourers  who— from  an  economic 
standpoint— do  no  work.  Now  it  may  sound  rather 
startling  at  first  to  those  to  whom  it  has  never  occurred 
to  reflect  on  these  matters,  but  it  is  an  indisputable  fact 
that  this  great  army  of  unproductive  workers,  whose 
work  is  a  nuisance  to  themselves  and  to  everyone  else, 
are  a  necessity  imposed  upon  us  simply  and  solely  by  our 
own  dishonesty ;  that  is,  they  are  necessary  because  the 
average  honesty  of  civilised  us  is  so  low  that,  unless 
there  were  a  complicated  system  of  checks  and  counter 
checks,  of  ticket-granting  and  ticket-taking,  no  railway- 
company  could  reckon  on  keeping  out  of  the  Bankruptcy 
Court. 

Now  consider  for  a  moment  how  different  all  this  will 
be  when  the  whole  nation  (for  here  mark  that  a  general 
or  universal  minimum-standard  of  honesty  must  first  be 
reached)  shall  have  become  honest.  All  these  human 
ticket-appliances  will  be  abolished  along  with  the  tickets: 
at  every  railway  station  there  will  be  conspicuously 
posted  a  table  of  fares  to  every  other  station  on  that 
system :  each  passenger  will  see  at  a  glance  how  much 
he  is  to  pay  for  travelling  a  given  distance  in  a  giveu 
class ;  and  he  will  put  the  requisite  fare  into  a  box, 
either  at  the  commencement  or  end  of  his  journey — or 
possibly  in  a  box  in  the  carriage.  He  will  no  more 
dream  of  taking  the  opportunity  to  defraud  the  company 
than  he  will  feel  tempted  to  cannibalism.  See  then 
what  an  immense  access  of  comfort  and  convenience  we 
shall  thus  achieve  when  we  are  honest;  while  the  ticket- 


14  Universal  Honesty. 

mongering  caste  will  be  relieved  from  their  miserable 
occupation,  and  set  free  for  work,  which,  while  equally 
bringing  them  their  daily  bread,  will — as  we  may  hope — 
be  also  more  profitable  to  the  community. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  whole  set  of  men, 
who  do  absolutely  nothing  useful,  but  are  merely  a 
private  police  and  detective  force  necessitated  by  the 
general  dishonesty,  and  are  therefor  in  an  utterly  differ- 
ent category  from  the  enginedrivers,  shunters,  porters, 
and  others,  who  do  actually  useful  and  productive  (in- 
directly productive')  work — that  this  whole  army  of  many 
thousands  is  simply — altho  the  un economically-cultured 
mass  never  heed  it — kejyt  at  the  public  cost.'-  The 
railway-companies  keep  them  in  the  first  place,  and  the 
cost  of  their  keep — of  their  wages — necessitates  a  per- 
centage increase  on  the  price  of  each  fare  :  ultimately 
therefor  they  are  kept  at  the  cost  of  the  whole  travelling 
public — that  is  to  say,  practically  of  the  nation.  It  just 
comes  to  this  then,  that  because  the  majority  of  us 
cannot  be  trusted  to  abstain  from  thieving  (for  what  else 
is  it),  therefor  every  one  of  us  has  a  certain  tax  put  uiton 
his  income:  that  is  to  say,  practically,  he  has  to  work  a 
percentage  of  our  short  life  longer  to  gain — nothing  ! 

Yes  :  we  have  seen  in  this  one  simple  instance  how 
considerable   a   gain   in    a   threefold    direction    will   be 

'  We  have  endeavoured  to  obtain  some  statistics  as  to  tlie 
number  of  ticket-clerks  and  ticket-collectors — but,  so  far,  in 
vain  :  since  however  tlie  census  returns  (18S1)  the  number  of 
railway  eniployt's  other  than  guards,  drivers,  stokers,  pointsmen, 
and  level-ciossing-guardians,  at  100,000,  we  might  perliaps  pro 
visionally  conclude  that  about  40,000  of  these  are  ticket-clerks 
and  ticketcoUeclors,  leaving  tlie  rciiiainiLig  GO, 000  as  porters. 


The  Best  Policy,  15 

effected  by  a  sufficient  advance  in  the  general  honesty  ; 
or  rather,  as  one  should  say,  when  the  minimum  honesty 
shall  have  been  sufficiently  raised  :  for  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  in  such  matters  our  whole  system  must 
be  a  function  of  the  minimum  honesty  :  so  long  as  any 
are  dishonest  enough  to  cheat  the  companies,  the  whole 
public  must  be,  for  practical  purposes,  put  upon  the 
same  suspicion  -  level.  What  we  need  therefor  is  a 
marked  rise  of  the  minimum  honesty ;  and  how  great  a 
moral  advance  this  means  it  is  almost  needless  to  point 
out.  At  present  the  popular  standard  of  honesty  in 
little  things  is  deplorably  low  ;  for  men  and  women  who 
would  be  horrified  at  any  actual  misappropriation  of 
another's  goods  will  yet  without  compunction  defraud  a 
public  company.  Taking  any  church,  probably  nine-tenths 
of  the  "  respectable  worshippers,"  who  perform  their 
eminently  "  respectable  "  devotions  there  every  Sunday, 
and  thank  God  that  they  are  children  of  grace  and 
neither  Turks,  Jews,  Socinians,  nor  Infidels,  would  have  no 
scruple  in  cheating  a  railway-company  on  their  way 
home :  probably  very  few  indeed  of  them,  were  they 
transplanted  into  the  ti-avellers'-Utopia  that  we  have 
sketched  above,  would  put  the  right  fare  itito  the  box.^ 
We  see  then  that,  taking  ourselves  as  one  composite 

'  At  present  there  is  really  a  very  strong  case  for  those  travel- 
lers— at  least  regular  travellers — who  seize  every  opportunity  of 
cheating  a  railway-company  :  for  all  or  nearly  all  of  the  com- 
panies swindle  us  in  the  most  rascally  fashion  ;  and  since  it  is 
hopeless  for  a  private  individual  to  commence  litigation  with  a 
rich  company  to  recover  the  expenses  which  their  unpunctualitj', 
e.[/.,  has  caused  him, — it  seems  clearly  defensible,  morally,  to  pay 
oneself  by  "cheating  tliem."  But  this  is  not  the  leasouiug  which 
prompts  many  of  the  frauds  to  which  we  refer. 


1 6  Universal  Honesty 

whole — the  public — we  richly  deserve  all  the  annoyance 
and  expense  to  which  the  ticket-system  puts  us;  since  it 
is  simply  the  just  reward  of  our  corporate  knavery  and 
dishonesty.     Lot  us  then  hasten  to  become  honest ! 

Well,  let  us  continue  souiewhat  farther  our  travelling 
reflections.  In  due  time  we  arrive  at  our  terminus,  in 
London,  for  instance,  and  perhaps  avail  ourselves  of  an 
omnibus  to  reach  a  distant  part  of  the  city.  Here  again 
the  least  reflection  will  convince  us  that  the  omnibus-con- 
ductor is  in  very  ndTirly  the  same  category  as  the  ticket- 
staff  of  the  railways,  and  his  profession  is  open  to  pre- 
cisely the  same  objections,  except  that  he  is  not  so  great 
an  annoyance  to  us  as  is  the  ticket-collector.  But  he  is 
a  worry  to  himself,  since  his  occupation  is  detestable,  and 
a  weary  irksome  monotony  of  idle  hard  work  ;  and  the 
existence  of  his  calling  is  an  economic  worry,  since  here 
again  is  a  large  staff  of  workers  detailed  for  a  perfectly 
useless  and  unproductive  occupation.^  Again,  then,  we 
may  reflect  that  the  advent  of  general  honesty  will  see 
the  omnibus  and  tram-conductors  disappear — while  pas- 
sengers will  put  their  rightful  fares  into  a  moneybox  pro- 
vided for  that  purpose.  It  is  superfluous  to  point  out 
that — like  the  ticket-collector — the  omnibus-conductors 
are  kept  at  the  public  expense.  It  may  be  observed  that 
the  drivers  are,^je?-  contra,  an  useful  class  of  workers  ;  and 
since  they  must  continue  as  long  as  horses  are  used,  it  is 
some   satisfaction    to   the   philanthropist   to   reflect  that 

1  There  does  not  seem  any  ready  means  of  ascertaining  the 
number  of  omnihus-condactors  in  England  ;  but  the  London  Gene- 
ral Omnibus  Co.  alone  employ  about  1 ,000,  whose  wages  vary  from 
4s.  6d.  to  6s.  per  day  :  this  represents  about  £80,000  per  year 
wasted  on  a  private  police  by  one  company  alone. 


The  Best  Policy.  ly 

their  occupation  is  somewhat  less  monotonously  tedious 
than  is  that  of  the  conductors. 

The  mention  of  omnibus-drivers  suggests  to  one  the 
thought  of  their  confreres  the  cab-drivers;  and  it  may  be 
permissible  to  digress  for  a  moment  to  consider  them.  We 
hope  that  it  is  already  understood  by  our  readers  that 
two  distinct  considerations  have  prompted  this  investiga- 
tion. In  the  first  place,  we  have  to  consider  what 
occupations  are  intrinsically  wearisome  and  distasteful ; 
and — unpleasant  work  being  nonconsonant  with  Utopia — 
to  enquire  how  far  a  general  social  advance  will  tend  to 
abolish  these  occupations — general  honesty  being  an 
essential  component  in  any  such  advance ;  from  this 
standpoint  we  consider  the  hedonic  gain  to  the  workers 
in  question.  But  in  the  second  place,  we  have  to  reckon 
with  the  general  hedonic  gain  of  the  public,  whether 
direct,  as  when  we  are  relieved  from  much  inconvenience 
by  the  abolition  of  ticket-regulations,  or  indirect,  as  when 
tlie  general  wealth  is  practically  increased  inasmuch  as  a 
demand  is  no  longer  made  upon  the  public  purse  to  sup- 
port a  large  body  of  unproductive  ■■•  workers. 

Very  well  then,  returning  to  our  friend  the  cab-driver, 

we  are  willing  to  admit  that  there   may  be  far  worse 

occupations  than  his:  assuming  the  receipt  of  decent  pay, 

and  the  shortening  of  his  hours  of  labour — assumptions 

1  We  need  not  stop  to  ask  whether  these  devote  themselves  to 
another  luiprod active  occupation,  or  become  direct  producers  of 
wealth.  For,  if  the  former,  and  supposing  they  become  confec- 
tioners even,  this  implies  that  we  spend  our  practically  extra 
wealth  upon  extra  sweetmeats  ;  so  that  tho  our  income  and  out- 
come remain  the  same,  our  enjoyments  are  increased.  And  sup- 
posing that  they — or  an  equivalent  number  in  a  higher  class — 
become  artists,  or  scientific  discoverers  or  teachers  ?  {vide  infra). 


1 8  Universal  Honesty 

which  must  be  made  regarding  every  occupation  in  even 
approximate    Utopias — then   there   might   be  far  worse 
occupations    than    cab-driving    in    fair    weatlier.       But, 
nevertheless,  we  are  inclined  to   think   that   the  social 
advance  will  see  a  great  diminution  in  the  number  of 
cab-drivers — to  the  hedonic  gain  of  the  quondam  drivers. 
For  even  if  we  put  aside  the  weary  intervals  of  waiting, 
and  assume  that,  one  day,  supply  and  demand  will  be  so 
well   adjusted   that    every   cabman    will    be    empl(»yed 
thro'out  the  whole  of  his  (shorter)  day's  work,  and  that, 
by  some  means,  we  shall  contrive  never  to  keep  a  cabman 
waiting  outside  houses  and  theatres — which  are  rather  big 
assumptions — the  fact  still  remains  that,  so  far  as  we  can 
foresee,  cabs  will  be  constantly  requited  either  very  late 
at  night  or  very  early  in  the  morning — which  involves 
hedonic  loss  for  the  cabman,  unless  he  be  highly  paid,  ami 
that  involves  hedonic  loss  by  us.     No,  we  prefer  to  show 
how,  without   assuming   anything    more    Utopian    than 
honesty  (which  we  confess  is  a  tolerable  assumption),  we 
may  satisfactorily  solve  the  problem.     In  the  first  place 
we  will  admit  that  cab-drivers  may  be  always  necessary 
in  crowded  cities  during  the  daytime — precisely  the  con- 
ditions under  which  they  are  most  likely  to  be  constantly 
employed — since  considerable  skill  is  necessary  to  safe 
driving   under  such  conditions ;    but   for  the  rest — for 
suburbs,  for  night-work,  and  in  all  such  cases — we  might 
have  cabs  withotit  drivers.     The  case  is  simplj  this  :  we 
hire  a  cab  in  order  that  we  may  get  rapidly  and  without 
exertion  from  spot  to  spot ;  under  the  present  system, 
however,  we  cannot  hire  a  cab  only  ;  we  must  hire  the 
cab-driver  in  addition.     Now,  as  we  have  already  seen, 


The  Best  Policy.  19 

the  cab-driver  will  probably  remain  for  long  a  necessity 
in  our  crowded  streets,  since  the  average  layman  is  want- 
ing in  the  necessary  skill  or  nerve  ;  but  in  suburbs,  and 
at  night-time,  the  great  majority  of  travellers  could 
themselves  drive  if  they  had  the  chance  ;  that  is,  if  they 
could  hire  the  cab  alone  ;  that  is,  in  effect,  if  besides  the 
"  cab  complet "  there  were  for  hire  a  number  of  cabs 
minus  drivers.  Tiie  gain  hedonically  would  be  as  usual 
several-fold;  the  fare  would  gain  by  paying  less:  the  men 
who  at  present  follow  the  occupation  of  driving  cabs  at 
uncomfortable  hours  would  gain  by  exchanging  this 
occupation  for  a  more  pleasant  one  ;  and  the  community 
in  general  would  gain,  since  so  much,  at  present  unpro- 
ductive, labour  would  be  set  free  and  might  become  pro- 
ductive. Why  then  can  we  not  introduce,  at  least  ex- 
perimentally, this  system?  Simply  because — the  usual 
answer — we  are  not  honest  enough ;  because,  as  a  com- 
munity, we  cannot  be  trusted  to  drive  off  in  cabs  without 
a  guardian;  because  so  many  of  us  would  systematically 
cheat  the  cab  owner  by  giving  him  less  than  his  due,  or 
even — worst  of  all — by  stealing  his  cab  !  So  that  again 
the  fact  that  our  corporate  honesty  is  below  the  necessary 
minimum  standard  debars  us  from  spending  less  for  given 
accommodation.  But  in  a  thoroly  honest  community  we 
take  it  that  the  organisation  of  a  driverless-cab-systeni 
will  be  excedingly  simple.  There  will  be  large  cal> 
stands  of  driverless  cabs,  and  at  half-day  one  or  two 
ostlers  will  come  up  and  change  the  horses.  Any  one 
requiring  such  a  cab  will  enter  one  and  drive  off.  Arrived 
at  his  journey's  end,  he  will  put  the  full  fare  into  the  box 
provided,  and  then  either  the  cab  will  be  left  on  some 


20  Universal  Honesty 

other  stand,  or  else  so  intelligent  an  animal  as  a  horse 
will  at  once  start  off  home  again.  We  must,  however, 
remember  that  at  no  distant  date  horse-cabs  will  probably 
be  partly  or  entirely  superseded  by  electrical  convey- 
ances ;  which  change  will,  in  many  respects,  greatly 
simplify  the  system  of  driverless  cabs.  We  do  not,  of 
course,  for  a  moment  profess  that  the  above  scheme  is 
other  than  a  very  crude  outline  ;  but  it  is  sufficient  to 
show  how  greatly  simplified  this,  among  other  social  pro- 
blems, becomes  if  we  assume  the  whole  public  to  be 
honest. 

To  continue  our  travels, — why  did  we  come  up  to 
London  ]  Well  perhaps  to  visit  a  theatre,  or  a  picture- 
gallery,  or  an  exhibition,  or  some  other  place  of  amuse- 
ment. Arrived  here  we  find  our  moral  at  once  pointed 
afresh  ;  for,  to  whatever  such  place  we  go,  we  find  an 
array  of  checktakers  or  guardians  of  some  sort,  whose 
occupations  would  at  once  be  gone  were  the  general 
public  sufficiently  honest  to  be  trusted  :  if  we  were  so 
honest  that  no  one  would  dream  of  entering  an  exhibition 
without  putting  his  fee  in  a  moneybox,  or  of  taking  a 
more  expensive  seat  than  he  had  payed  for  in  the 
theatre,  where  would  be  the  necessity  for  such  officials  ? 
Perhaps  it  may  be  replied  that  after  all  there  are  not 
many  such  employed  :  true ;  but  the  sum  total  is  ap- 
preciable ;  and  theirs  is  so  much  labour  locked  up  in  an 
employment  not  only  unproductive  of  wealth  but  also 
useless,  since  ministering  (except  negatively)  to  no  one's 
haj)piness.  But  we  are  not  honest  enough  to  dispense 
with  them. 

We  spoke  just  now  of  the  whole  body  of  ticket-ofEcials 


TJie  Best  Policy.  21 

as  being  simply  a  police  upon  us :  and  that  suggests  a 
reference  to  the  national  police.  What  could  afford  a 
more  striking  comment  upon  the  loss,  the  double  loss,  of 
■wealth  entailed  upon  the  community  by  the  dishonesty 
of  some  of  its  members,  than  this  fact  that  in  England 
and  Wales  alone  we  require  a  total  police-force  of  over 
32^000  menl^  That  is  to  say  that  the  nation,  as  a 
whole,  is  heavily  taxed  in  order  to  provide  a  check  on 
the  dishonesty,  rowdyism,  and  violence,  of  a  section  of 
its  members.  Verily,  in  the  long  run  anyhow.  Honesty 
is  the  best  Policy  !  The  direct  losses  caused  by  actual 
deeds  of  violence  and  dishonesty  seem  almost  trivial 
when  compared  with  the  grand  annual  loss  necessary  in 
order  to  prevent  a  reign  of  violence  and  fraud.  We  may, 
however,  admit  that  the  case  as  regards  the  police  is  not 
entirely  on  a  par  with  that  of  the  ticket-collectors  and 
conductors  ;  inasmuch  as  the  need  for  police  is  mainly 
due  to  the  avowedly  criminal  classes ;  whereas  the 
potential  sinners  against  honesty  in  the  matter  of  travel- 
ling, etc.,  are  to  be  reckoned  in  great  numbers  among 
the  highly  "respectable"  classes. 

As  an  intermediate  instance  we  may  however  point  to 
our  legal  organisation.  Besides  the  stipendiary  magis- 
trates, who  are  simply  an  appendage  to  the  police  force, 
we  have  to  take  into  account  the  expenses  of  County 
Court  Judges,  Judges  of  the  Higher  Courts — whether 
Civil,  Criminal,  or  Equity — with  all  their  host  of  subor- 
dinate officers,  and  the  general  expenses  of  the  courts ; 
and  we  then  find  tl)at   the  cost  of  law   and  justice   in 

'  According  to  the  ISSl  Ceusus — besides  3,000  women. 


22  Universal  Honesty 

the  United  Kingdom  is  about  &ix  millions  annually  I  ^ 
Now  self-evidently  this  great  annual  burden  is  simply  a 
corollary  to  our  general  want  of  honesty.  Because, 
looked  at  as  a  nation,  we  have  so  scant  a  regard  for 
honor,  honesty,  and  fairness,  all  tliis  complicated 
machinery  of  wigs,  gowns  and  beadles  is  required — and 
must  be  paid  for.-     Be  it  remembered  too  that  this  cal- 

'  This  includes  £1,500,000  for  the  Irish  constabulary,  and 
£500,000  for  the  London  Police.  As  wi'l  be  sliowii  sulisequentiy, 
this  Budget  charge  of  £6,000,000  is  very  far  from  representing 
the  total  expense  to  the  nation. 

^  The  grief  of  it  all  is  that  the  rogues  and  sharpers,  whose 
evil-doings  necessitate  all  this  machinery,  are  not  compelled  to 
)  ay  for  it :  and  one  is  sometimes  inclined  to  despair  of  social 
improvement  when  one  observes  the  stolid  pigheaded  determina- 
tion of  our  lawmakers  to  ignore  the  most  crying  abuses  and  to 
leave  chaos  unrefornied.  It  is  no  exaggeration,  but  a  simple 
literal  statement  of  fact,  to  say  that  our  laws  are  specially  con- 
trived to  leave  honest  men  at  the  mercy  of  rogues  and  swindlers. 
We  pass  by  the  bankruptcy  laws — which  enable  scoundrels  to 
thrive  by  their  roguery — and  likewise  that  iniquitous  enactment 
which  prevents  both  civil  a)id  criminal  action  being  taken 
against  fraudulent  company  -  promoters  et  id  omne  genus — an 
enactment  that  enables  them  to  snap  their  fingers  at  the  victims 
they  have  fleeced — we  pass  by  all  such  scandals  as  these  since 
our  present  purport  is  to  point  out  the  disgracefully  backward 
condition  of  our  law  as  compared  with  that  of — Scandinavia  ! 
It  is  of  no  use  for  us  Englishmen  to  plume  ourselves  upon  leading 
the  van  of  civilisation  when  little  Scandinavia  can  outstrip  us 
in  commonsense  laws,  and  in  regard  to  justice  puts  us  to  shame. 
There,,  as  it  seems,  a  man  who  has  been  committed  for  trial  is 
compelled,  if  found  guilty,  to  pay  for  the  expenses  of  his  keep 
while  awaiting  trial  and  for  the  expenses  incurred  in  bringing 
him  to  justice — a  most  admirable  and  salutary  proceding  which 
of  course  the  "(ilorious  English  constitution  "  will  not  hear  of. 
Htre,  the  system  is  so  arranged  that  (1)  a  man  who  has  been 
swindled  and  robbed  may  have  no  criminal  redress  at  all  :  and 
(2)  if  he  have,  and  from  public  spirit  avail  himself  thereof,  he 
must  forego  any  attempt  to  recover  his  money  of  which  he  has 


TJie  Best  Policy.  23 

culation  embraces  only  the  national  law  costs :  add 
thereto  the  costs  for  solicitors  and  counsel  incurred  by 
every  litigant,  and  what  a  total  should  we  have  ! 

But  after  all,  this  vast  expenditure  on  a  machinery  of 
police,  necessitated  by  the  internal  dishonesty  and  violence 
of  our  fellow-countrymen,  which  compels  us  to  impoverish 
ourselves  to  this  amount  in  order  to  safeguard  person  and. 

been  robbed  ! — a  monstrous  and  incredibly  fatuous  provision ; 
wiiilst  (3)  if  there  be  criminal  redress,  he  himself  is  left  to  work 
the  expensive  law-machineiy ;  that  is,  having  surrendered  his 
"natural  right"  to  vindicate  himself  by  force,  and  having  paid 
heavy  taxes  all  his  life,  the  return  made  by  the  State  is  to  allow 
him  to  do — himself — the  State's  work  of  public  prosecution  !  Is 
not  this  an  admirable  arrangement  that  makes  the  honest 
pay  the  costs  incurred  by  the  dishonest  ?  But  (4)  even  if,  as  ia 
rare  cases,  that  national  fraud  the  Public  Prosecutor  can  be 
kicked  and  cuffed  into  doing  his  duty,  even  then  the  rogue 
whose  prosecution  entails  all  this  expense  pays  not  one  farthincr 
of  the  costs  !  But,  having  thus  shown  itself  far  inferior  to  the 
code  of  little  Scandinavia  as  an  instrument  for  punishing  rogues, 
English  Law — in  direct  defiance  of  the  maxim  which  it  is  ever- 
lastingly cackling  over— endeavours  to  square  the  account  by 
punishing  the  innocent.  A  man  committed  to  prison  to  await 
his  trial  is  treated  almost  as  tho  he  were  a  condemned  mis- 
creant :  and,  if  found  not  guilty  by  the  Jury,  not  one  farthing 
of  reparation  do  we  make  him  for  loss  of  time,  loss  of  liberty, 
loss  of  money,  and  loss  of  home.  In  Scandinavia,  however — 
where  possibly  the  inhabitants  do  not  thank.  Heaven  quite  so 
fervently  or  ostentatiously  that  they  are  virtuous  and  religious, 
and  where  apparently  they  devote  some  attention  to  acting 
morally — we  may  again  find  a  pattern — and  blush  ;  for  there,  if 
found  not  guilty,  a  prisoner  is  suitably  compensated  for  the  loss 
of  time,  comfort,  and  money,  which  he  has  suffered.  In  fact 
the  difference  is  just  this  ;  England  affords  manifold  facilities 
to  rogues  to  escape  from  justice  :  and  peremptorily  refuses  jus- 
tice to  innocent  and  wronged  men  ;  Scandinavian  law  punishes 
rogues  and  compensates  innocent  men.  Compared  then  with 
Scandinavia,  England  seems  to  be  still  in  a  semi-barbarous 
condition  1 


24  Universal  Honesty 

property,  is  but  small  when  compared  with  the  terrible 
drain  made  on  our  resources  by  the  army  and  navy  : 
and  what  are  these  but  a  direct  consequence  of  interna- 
tional dishonesty,  violence,  rapine,  and  bloodthirstiness  : 
a  consequence,  and  alas,  too  often  a  cause  !  Assuredly, 
if  ever  in  the  whole  history  of  the  world  a  glaring  and 
overwhelming  proof  has  been  experimentally  furnished 
demonstrative  of  the  old  adage  that  Honesty  is  the  best 
Policy,  we  have  it  now  in  the  present  condition  of 
Europe  ;  every  state  bowed  down,  groaning,  and  strength- 
drained,  by  the  terrible  incubus  of  enormous  armaments  ; 
the  nations  taxed  and  triply  impoverished ;  first  by  being 
compelled  to  heep  hundreds  of  thousands  of  idle  men  ; 
secondly  by  losing  exactly  so  many  wealth-creators  ; 
thirdly  by  the  expense  of  inaterial  armaments — guns, 
forts,  ships,  powder,  etc.,  etc.  :  and  all  this  awful  waste 
simply  because  every  nation  believes — and  rightly — 
pretty  nearly  every  other  nation  to  be — like  itself — a 
robber  and  a  murderer  !  The  presence  of  standing 
armies  in  Europe  of  today  is  the  maddest  of  all  in- 
sanities ;  the  demarcations  of  kingdoms  have  long  since 
been  mapped  out ;  and  excepting  on  the  Eastern  frontier 
of  Germany,  and  along  the  Danubian  frontier — wliere  the 
danger  exists  of  an  inroad  by  the  hordes  of  ravening 
savages  who  people  that  earthly  hell  ruled  by  devils 
incarnate  and  called  Russia — there  should  be  not  a 
soldier  in  Europe.  Look  across  the  Atlantic  and  see 
America — happy  country — almost  without  a  soldier,  and 
till  lately  perplexed  how  to  dispose  of  her  national 
income;  then  look  back  at  Europe  groaning  and  writhing 
in  blood  and  impoverishment !     The  English  army  cost 


The  Best  Policy.  25 

(in  1887)  17  millions,  its  adjuncts  9|  millions,  and  the 
navy  12|  millions,  making  a  total  of  39  millions — practi- 
cally half  our  revenue  spent  on  an  international  Robber- 
police.  Putting  aside  all  the  other  loss  entailed,  there  is 
an  average  taxation  of  6  or  7  pounds  annually  on  every 
householder  in  the  United  Kingdom  in  order  to  keep  up 
this  Robber-police.  Let  any  man  of  small  income  ask 
himself  bow  much  additional  happiness  this  would  mean 
to  him  every  year ;  and  yet  this  direct  loss  is  the  small- 
est part  of  the  total  impoverishment  so  caused.  Verily, 
Honesty  is  the  best  Policy  ! 


CHAPTER  IT. 

TUE    GREAT    SERVANT■QUESTIO^^ 

•*  But  the  heart,  and  the  mind, 
And  the  voice,  of  mankind, 
Shall  arise  in  communion  ; 
And  who  shall  resist  tliat  proud  union  ?" 

Now  let  us  refer  to  a  different  category  of  occupations. 
In  the  several  preceding  examples  we  have  been  anxious 
to  show  how  certain  modes  of  labour,  which  are  absolutely 
unproductive  of  any  pleasure  to  the  public  (being  indeed 
a  nuisance),  and  are  also  in  an  economic  sense  absolutely 
unproductive  also,  would  at  once  disappear  were  men  but 
sufficiently  honest.  We  want  no  Jules-Verne-inveutions 
to  render  possible  that  much  improvement  in  society^ 
nothing  but  honesty  ;  in  any  honest  society — let  alone 
Utopia — all  police  of  every  kind  must  disappear.  But 
our  concern  is  now  with  certain  occupations  which  are 
not  police-born  at  all,  but  which  are  simply  the  con- 
comitants of  our  complex  civilisation  ;  and  altho  most  of 
these  be  not  productive  in  the  economic  sense,  yet  do 
they  minister  to  our  comfort,  meeting  real  or  factitious 
needs.  The  question  is  now — will  such  occupations 
persist    in    a    semi-Utopian    society,    or    will    tliey    be 

abolished]       The    truth     is     that,     while     they    seem 

26 


The  Servaiit  Question.  27 

necessary    to   the    comfort    of   the    public— or   of  larye 
classes  thereof— they  are  undeniably  unpleasant  to  the 
workers :  and  moreover  with  the  growing  refiuement  of 
evolving  society,  and  the  raising  of  the  general  minimum 
of   refinement,    these    occupations    may  j9?-m5  facie    be 
expected  to  become    more  and  more    distasteful  to  the 
workers.      How  then  shall  we  reconcile  the   opposition, 
smce,  selt-evidently,  there  can  be  no  unpleasant  occu- 
pations in  any  approximate  Utopia  %     We  do  not  propose 
here  to  avail  ourselves  of  Spencer's  principle  of  adapta- 
tion to  the  unavoidable,  or  to  enquire  whether,  in  spite 
of  growing  refinement,  men  might  become  reconciled  to, 
and  finally  take  great  pleasure  in,  e.g.  scavenging :  since, 
before  falling  back  on  tiiat  last  line  of  defence,  it  is  at 
least  permissible  to  enquire  whether  the  seemingly  un- 
avoidable may  not  be  modified  or  dispensed  with. 

It  is  not  proposed  to  discuss  in  the  present  chapter  a 
number  of  such  unpleasant  occupations  with  a  view  to 
determining  their  unavoidability  or  otherwise  ;  such  a 
discussion  will  be  found  in  a  subsequent  chapter  ;  1  but 
for  the  present  we  shall  find  quite  enough  to  occupy  us 
for  a  couple  of  chapters  or  so  in  the  great  Servant- 
Question. 

Everybody— both  here  and  in  America,  and  still  more 
in  Australia —seems  to  be  agreed  that  one  of  the  most 
pressing  (minor)  social  problems  of  to-day  is  that  of 
domestic  service.  Now,  on  this  score  a  good  deal  might 
be  said,  and  there  are  sundry  aspects  to  the  question. 
In  the  first  place,  if  any  one   expect  from  us  an  assent 

^    See  chapter  xi  ,  to  which   the  rtader  may  advanta"eouslv 
refer  at  this  juucture:  ° 


28  Tlie  Servant  Question. 

to  the  universal  mistress-cry  tliat  this  scarcity  of 
domestic  servants  is  a  grave  evil,  let  iiini  make  u[) 
his  mind  to  be  disappointed.  We  can  not  and  will  not 
cry  amen  to  this  caste-prayer  of  "  Give  us  tliis  day  our 
old-fashioned  servants."  We  will  admit  to  the  full  the 
annoyance  and  inconvenience  caused  to  us — the  em- 
ployers— by  the  changes  wrought  in  the  servant-class 
during  the  last  half  century ;  and  we  very  fully  realise 
the  discomfort  induced  by  repeated  changes — tho  here 
it  seems  to  us  that  the  actual  material  discomfort  and 
worry  caused  are  perhaps  less  serious  than  the  emotional 
evil — the  impossibility  of  creating  a  feeling  of  personal 
esteem  and  friendship  between  master  and  servant,  of 
making  the  servant  one  of  the  family  as  was  the  case 
in  former  days,  when  the  servant  would  speak  of  "  our  " 
house,  ^^  our"  children,  and  so  on.  We  admit  to  feeling 
very  strongly  on  tliis  point,  and  to  yearning  for  tlie 
affectionate  life-long  ties  of  old  days,  when  a  maid 
entered  the  service  of  a  young  mistress  just  married, 
and  grew  old  along  with  her — the  mutual  esteem  and 
fellow-feeling  deepening  from  year  to  year ;  or  if  anon 
the  maid  married,  she  yet  retained  the  kindly  kinship- 
feeling,  and  periodically  visited  her  old  mistress  to  talk 
of  the  children  and  all  household  interests. 

Yes  !  We  confess  to  a  very  poignant  regret  for  tin's 
old  affectionate  intercourse,  the  possibility  of  which 
seems  destroyed,  or  at  least  indefinitely  suspended,  now ; 
but  we  can  go  no  further  with  those  who  sigh  for  the 
"  old  servants,"  nor  can  we  endorse  their  indignant  re- 
proaches on  the  modern  domestic.  For,  however  happy 
the  results  in  individual   cases   under   the   old  style,  it 


TJie  Servant  Question.  29 

must  be  remembered  that  the  long  unchanged  service, 
aud  the  docility  aud  submission,  were  all  due  to  one 
cause — viz.,  the  inexperience,  helplessness,  and  ignorance, 
of  the  servants,  and  the  general  overawedness  and 
ahvay  s-carry -yourself -lowly-and-reverently-tQ-yonr-betters- 
ness  inculcated  upon  the  poorer  classes  by  their  caste-bora 
and  caste-bound  superiors.  Now — except  in  the  country 
where  non-doffing  to  the  squire  and  the  parson  is  still  high 
felony — all  such  insolent  nonsense  is  disappearing.  The 
*'  revolt "  of  the  servants  is  only  another  effect  and 
symptom  of  the  same  salutary  social  revolution  that  has 
given  us  strikes,^  trade  unions,  extended  franchise,  and 
labour-conferences :  all  alike  mean  the  shaking-off  of 
thraldom,  and  the  assertion  of  the  independence  of  man. 
But  housekeepers  and  mistresses  are,  as  a  rule,  little 
given  to  philosophising  on  sociology — or  on  anything 
else ;  and  they  deplore  as  unmixed  evil  what  is,  in 
great  measure,  very  good.  We  have  but  scant  patience 
or  sympathy  with  that  intolerant  caste-spirit  which  can 
look  on  one  side — its  own  side — only  of  tlie  shield,  and 
judge  the  goodness  or  badness  of  any  change  simply  by 
the  resultant  effect  on  the  comfort  of  the  caste.  On 
the  contrary,  we  cannot  but  rejoice — however  much  in- 
convenience may  at  times  be  caused  to  ourselves 
personally — that  the  class  of  domestic  servants  is  now 
hi  so  far  better  a  position  that  it  is  able  to  insist  on 
higher  wages,   more  extensive  privileges,   and    the    sus- 

1  Not,  of  course,  that  we  can  otherwise  than  deplore  the 
frequency  of  strikes — the  misery  and  loss  entailed  by  them — tho 
we  rejoice  that  the  w  orkmen  can  assert  tjiemselves  and  are  no 

lonircr  sirfs. 


30  The  Servant  Question. 

pension  of  vexatious  and  impertinent  restrictions.  The 
modern  mistress  laments  not  only  the  loss  of  long- 
service-servants,  but  the  loss  of  that  authority  and  power 
in  which  her  mother  and  grandmother  gloried  :  the  lust 
of  power  is  rampant  in  the  human  breast,  and  few  have 
the  virtue  willingly  to  resign  the  sceptre.  Nowadays- 
far  otherwise  was  it  in  the  past  generation — servants  are 
awake  to  their  own  value,  and  no  longer  cleave  to  their 
one  situation  ;  for  they  know  that  their  supply  is  below 
their  employers'  demands,  and  that  a  good  servant  need 
never  want  a  berth.  Similarly  they  will  not  tolerate 
those  arrogant  and  insolent  caste-regulations  which 
forbade  them  to  wear  colors;  and  we  hope  that  in  a 
very  short  time  they  will  throw  off  the  "  cap  "  also  to 
which  they  are  at  present  doomed  in  order  to  mark  their 
place  below  the  salt.  Caps  may  be  suitable  to  age,  but 
we  have  no  sort  of  patience  with  those  people  who  insist 
upon  a  young  girl  jjutting  on  these  hair-extinguishers, 
instead  of  allowing — or  teaching — her  to  dress  her  hair 
in  the  one  mode  in  which  any  woman  should  wear  her 
hair.i  To  one  thing  these  mistresses  had  better  make 
up  their  minds  at  once — viz.,  that  if  the  servant-system 
be  fated  to  endure,  it  will  be  only  in  an  abiuidantly 
modified  form.  Tlie  general  re  fining-process  will  give 
us  servants  on  a  higlicr  level  of  refinement ;  and  the 
present  insistence  on  a  stern  demarcation  in  personal 
appearance  between  housemaid  and  daughter  of  the 
house  must  collapse.  Those  who  are  horrified  if  a 
servant,  waiting  at  table,  wear  a  watch  and  chain,  and 
who  would  faint  instanto  at  seeing  her  minus  a  ca[), 
*  Viz.,  in  ca  coil  on  the  top  of  the  head. 


Tlie  Servant  Question.  31 

may  rest  assured  that  the  future  maid  will  not  only 
appear  thus,  but  also  (in  any  family  with  a  love  for 
esthetic  graces)  with  flowers  in  her  hair:  for  life  is  so 
full  of  uglinesses  that  we  can  ill  afford  to  scj^uander  the 
possibilities  of  beauty  and  grace. 

Now  it  appears  to  us  that  one  reason  why  the  long- 
service-system  has  practically  disappeared  with  the  old 
cas^e-regime  is  this — that  the  employer.^,  blinded  and 
heart-hardened  by  their  intolerable  caste-notions,  have 
steadfastly  resisted,  point  by  point  and  line  by  line, 
ever}'  advance  of  the  servants,  and,  to  the  very  best  of 
their — happily  limited  —  ability,  have  hindered  the 
emancipation.  It  really  seems  absolutely  impossible  to 
make  employers  understand — far  less  realise  —  that 
servants  are  not  a  class  specially  brought  into  existence 
by  a  divine  Providence  to  minister  to  their  comfort. 
As  long  as  they  thus  insist  upon  regarding  every  advance 
of  the  servants  as  a  wilful  rebellion,  every  new  departure 
as  both  wicked  and  foolish,  and — significantly— think 
the  whole  question  summed  up  by  deploring  the  "  grow- 
ing independence  "  of  the  servant-class — so  long  it  is 
hopeless  to  expect  any  re-establishment  of  the  old  kindly 
feeling.  For  servants  know  perfectly  well  in  what  light 
their  attempts  at  enfranchisement  are  regarded  ;  and  the 
patent,  tho  smouldering,  resentment  of  mistress  raises 
inevitably  an  antipathetic  feeling  in  maid.  They  know 
perfectly  well  that  every  privilege  of  theirs  has  been  won 
in  the   teeth  of  opprobrium,   opposition,  and   sarcasm, ^ 

'  Tt  has  been  most  trutlifully  saifl  that,  to  really  know — to 
realise — tiie  inner  life  of  any  age,  we  must  study  its  liglit  litera- 
ture.    Anyone  who  should  wish  to  study  the  social  hfe  of  the 


0- 


TIic  Servant  Question. 


and  that,  were  it  possible,  probably  ninety-nine  em[)l()yers 
out  of  every  hundred  would  instantly  combine  to  reduce 
servants  to  the  status  of  fifty  years  ago. 
"But" — cries  the  injured  mistress — "what  has  this  to  do 


last  half  century  would  naturally  turn  to  the  pages  of  Punch, 
the  study  of  whicli  is  almost  a  liberal  education  by  itself — at 
least  in  that  sense  of  "  liberal  "  wliicli  excludes  the  most  valuable 
of  all  knowledge,  anyhow.  Punch  is  usually  read  for  amusement 
merely  ;  but  beneath  tlie  social  satire  and  the  humor  lies  a 
motal  which  he  who  runs  may  read.  Some  fortj'-five  years  ago 
there  appeared  in  Punch  a  series  of  sketches  entitled  Seri'aiit(jal- 
ism  ;  or,  ivhat's  to  become  of  the  Mistresses  ?  and  here  may  be  found 
several  apt  illustrations  of  our  contention — that  the  typical 
mistress  is  hopelessly  imbued  with  the  notion  that  seivants  are 
a  lower  caste,  specially  created  by  Providence  as  ministrants  to 
the  comfort  of  the  weultliier  ;  and  that  any  assertion  of  inde- 
pendence or  selfregarci  on  tlieir  part  is  both  wicked  and  absurd. 
These  sketches  also  illustrate  our  argument  that  part  of  the  pre- 
sent discord  between  servant  and  mistress  is  traceable  to  the 
sarcasm  and  ridicule  which  the  dominant  class  have  heaped  upon 
their  incipiently  self-asserting  servants.  It  would  be  rather  a 
rash  assumption  to  make  that  the  satirised  servants  never  saw 
Punch ;  and,  having  seen  themselves  so  satirised,  they  would  be 
something  more,  or  something  less,  than  human,  did  not  their 
relations  with  tiieir  employers  become  embittered  and  dis- 
cordant ;  altho  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  evils  thus  wrought 
were  so  great  as  the  reflex-effect  of  the  sarcasms  on  the  minds  of 
the  employer-class,  who  thus  became  only  the  more  contirmed  in 
their  prejudices  as  to  the  one  duty  of  servants,  and  the  more 
disposed  to  scoi-n  all  notions  of  servants'  rights. 

First  of  all  noting  that  the  very  title  of  Servantgalism  ;  oVy 
what's  to  become  of  the  Mistresses  ?  is  itself  eloquent  testimony  to 
the  truth  of  our  indictment,  and  alone  speaks  volumes  for  tlie 
mental  attitude — the  hopelessly  prejudiced,  caste-born,  attitude 
— assumed  by  the  typical  employer,  we  pass  to  one  or  two 
examples  (the  references  to  Punch  are  thro'init  to  the  3  volume 
edition  of  Leech's  Cartoons  published  I8SG-1SS7  by  Bradbury 
Agnew  &  Co. ). 

Here  is  one  entitled  An  Impudent  Minx  (1852)  (T.  p-  ^-l)-     -^ 


The  Servant  Question.  33 

with  it]  You  admit  that  servants  are  iu  a  far  better 
position  than  formerly;  and  you  equally  admit  that  they 
are  nevertheless  f^ir  more  dissatisfied,  and  that  the  old 
affectionate  relations  cannot,   under  present   conditions, 

shoddng  oH  frump,  with  very  scanty  cu.ls  at  the  sides  of  her 
tace   thus  addresses  a  very  pretty  maul,  mIio  has  combed  some  of 
her  luxuriant   tresses  into   long  curls  surrounding  her  cheeks  • 
Go  and  put  up  those  curls  directly  if  you  please.     How  daro 
you   imitate   me   in   that    manner?      Impertinence!"      And   a 
pnictically  identical  example  is  one  entitled  A  Cau^efor  Reproof 
(184/)  (I   p.  257).     Now  in  both  of  these  cases  we  will  franklv 
admit  that  the  point  of  the  sarcasm  is  really  directed  at   the 
mistresses   and  that  they,  and  not  their  blooming  maidservants 
are  in  reality  gibbeted.     In  so  far  therefor  one  must  exonerate 
Leech  from  a  charge  of  intensifying  caste-iUwill.     But  we  are 
anxious,  so  far  as  concerns  these  two  cuts,  to  draw  attention  to 
there  triithfidness:  they  exactly  reflect  the  prejudiced  intolerant 
caste-spint ;    and  at   least  ninety-nine    mistresses   out  of  every 
hundred  who  saw  these  sketches  would  consider  the  two  pretty 
maids   to   be    acting   with    great    impertinence,    and    the    two 
mistresses  to  be  fully  justified  in  their  indignation.     In  fact  so 
thoroly  typical  of  the  employer-spirit  are  these  sketches  that  it  is 
doubtful   whether    many    mistresses   would    perceive    the    real 
humor  at  all  _  their  attention  being  entirely  occupied  by  the 
m.sdeeds  of  the  maids  and  the  just  wrath  of  their  mistresses  • 
Ike  the    atter  they  would  perhaps  think  that  the  whole  absurdity 
lay  in  the  maids'  attempt  to  imitate  (!)  their  nustresses'  hair- 
dressing. 

In  otiier  iWnstv^tiomoi  Servantg alisrnhov, ever  we  find  nothing 
but  gibes,  ridicule,  and  sarcasm,  at  the  expense  of  the  servants^ 
In  No  7,  or  instance  (1853)  (I.  p.  222),  we  find  two  violently 
caricatured  servants  calling  at  the  house  where  "  Hann 
Jenkins  is  employed,  to  leave  their  cards,  and  express  a  hope  that 
she  got  home  all  right  after  the  ball.  In  No.  10  (1853)  (I  p  95) 
an  aggressively  snub-nosed  heavy-built  girl  remarks,  ''With 
mv  beauty  and  figure  I  ain't  agoing  to  stop  in  sarvice  no  longer  " 
In  No  16  (1863)  (III.  p.  220)  a  smutty-faced,  snub-nosed,  re- 
markedly  awkward-looking,  maid-of-all-work,  being  reproved 
for  wearing  her  crinoline  in  the  morning,  replies  that  the  sweeps 


34  ^/-^^  Servant  Question. 

be  re-established  :  then  tliis  just  proves  the  truth  of  our 
complaints — that  the  servant  of  to-day  is  far  inferior  to  the 
servant  of  our  grandmothers'  time." 

This   may   seem  phiusible,   but  the  answer  to   it  has 
already  been  implied.     Let  us  take  a  [mrallel  from  the 

were  coming,  and  she  conhhi't  think  of  opening  the  donr  to 
them  — such  a  tigure  as  she  would  have  looked  without  her 
crinoline  !  And  finally  in  one  entitled  Servant  rial  Urn  in 
Australia — a  Fact,  a  servant,  of  about  as  ungainly  a  buihl  as  the 
preceding  ons,  .appears  dressed  in  a  riding  habit  (dreadful  re- 
sult !),  and  informs  lier  mistress  that,  having  an  hour  to  spare, 
slie  is  "going  to  try  her  new  horse." 

Now  the  tirst  point,  to  which  we  wish  to  draw  attention  in 
these  illustrations,  is  the  intolerant  and  superciliou.s  attitude 
taken  up  with  regard  to  any  attempted  advance  of  the  servants. 
The  tacit  assumption  underlying  all  tiiese  satires— and  essential 
to  their  very  existence — is  that  dances,  visiting  cards,  a  good 
figure,  and  horse-riding,  are  so  selfevidently,  so  palpably,  the 
special  endowment  of  th"^  ruling  class  only,  that  any  mention 
of  them  in  connection  with  servants  is  essentially  ludicrous  :  that 
assumption  once  made,  it  needs  only  to  point  tiie  satire  by  a  mis- 
placed H,  a  snub-nose,  or  a  bad  figure,  and  the  farce  is  complete. 
We  are  not  for  a  moment  denying  the  humour  of  Leech's  satire — 
we  think  that  we  appreciate  it  to  the  very  fullest — but  we  do 
emphatically  protest  against  the  intolerant  caste-born  mental 
standpoint, — so  admirably  illustrated  by  Leech — from  which  tiie 
struggles  of  the  servant-class  are  regarded.  We  will  go  even 
fartiier  ;  and,  admitting  tliat  instances  are  to  hand  of  genuine  ab- 
surdities committed  by  servants,  we  will  ask — Is  it  kind,  is  it 
chivalrous,  to  hold  them  up  to  scorn  and  contumely  in  a  class- 
journal — they  being  the  weaker  party  ?  Satirise  tlie  strong  as 
mucli  as  you  like,  vent  your  sarcasm  on  them  to  the  top  of  your 
bent — for  you  do  it  at  your  own  risk  ;  but  is  it  chivalrous,  is  it 
brave,  is  it  other  than  meanspirited,  to  satirise  a  class  below, 
wlio  cannot  retaliate,  and  whose  absurdities  and  uncouthnesses 
are  due  simply  to  the  want  of  that  education  and  that  happier 
social  environment  which  you — thro  no  merit  of  your  own — have 
enjoyed?  What  other  result  can  follow  but  uuiim;eaaary  aud 
irratuitous  embilteruient  ot  feeling,  aud  illwill";; 


Tlie  Servant  Qiiesaon.  35 

army.  We  read  of  certain  great  commanders  addressing 
Ineir  soldiers  as  "  Aly  children,"  and  we  indulge  in  much 
sentiment  over  the  affectionate  relations  thus  existing, 
and  deplore  the  fact  that  in  our  own  army  such  relations 
are  impossible.  But  it  has  most  truly  been  pointed  out  ^ 
that  such  relations  are  symptomatic  of  an  army  where  the 
men  have  no  rights  :  "  My  children  "  is  the  phrase  of  a 
despot  addressing  soldiers  whose  lives  are  absolutely  in 
his  hands,  and  who  have  no  redress  against  his  decrees 
however  arbitrary  :  it  is  the  watchword  of  the  "  patri- 
archal "  rule.  But  things  are  different  in  our  array, 
where  the  lowest  has  legal  rights  and  may  obtain  redress 
lor  injustice.  "Respect  for  riglits "  has  superseded 
patronage. 

Now  it  appears  to  us  that  here  is  a  strong  analogy 
to  the  household  relations  which  we  are  considering. 
Formerly  a  mistress,  altho  certainly  not  holding  her 
servant's  life  in  her  hands,  yet  had  her  very  tolerably 
under  her  thumb.  The  great  difficulty  of  communication 
and  of  travelling  in  those  days  naturally  induced  depend- 
ence ;  for  a  servant,  having  once  secured  a  tolerable 
situation,  would  put  up  with  a  good  deal  of  tyranny 
rather  than  risk  her  livelihood  by  leaving.  '  How  in  those 
pre- cheap-newspaper,  and  pre-registry-office,  days  could  a 
servant  hear  of  a  new  situation,  or  how  make  her  wants 
known]  Situations  then  were  probably  filled  up  on 
personal  recommendations,  and  "  characters "  went  for 
everything.  In  days  when  a  cardinal  article  of  faith  was 
that   "Rebellion  is   as  the  sin  of  witchcraft,"  and   any 

1  We  regret  to  have  totally  forgotten  the  author  from  wliom  we 
quote — and  necessarily  therefor  we  quote  only  in  paraphrase. 


36  TJie  Servant  Question. 

attempt  to  assert  independence  was  regarded  as  atheistical 
and  republican,  it  may  be  well  understood  that  a  servant 
who  resented  caste-tyranny,  caste-usurpations,  and  caste- 
restrictions,  would  stand  but  a  poor  chance  of  finding  a 
second  situation  ;  for  probably  the  supply  of  servants — 
or  of  would-be-servants — then,  was  fully  up  to  the 
demand.  In  those  days  too  the  doctrines  of  humility 
and  of  obedience  to  superiors  were  steadily  engrained  in 
children's  minds,  and  contentment  in  iJiat  state  of  life  in- 
culcated, by  caste-parsons  wiio,  themselves  imbued  with 
the  quint-essential  spirit  of  caste,  had  yet  the  ett'rontery  to 
style  themselves  followers  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  who — if 
he  taught  anything — most  emphatically  tauglit  (rightly 
or  wrongly)  the  fraternity  and  "  equality  "  of  man  ! 

Very  well  then  :  is  it  not  now  very  intelligible  that  the 
mistress,  looking  down  from  her  lofty  standpoii\t  of 
superiority,  could  easily  condescend  affectionately  to  her 
servants — practically  possessing  no  rights,  and  taught  to 
reverence  her  as  a  mistress  ;  while  naturally  too  a  lifelong 
connection  alone  would  in  many  instances  superiuiiuce 
feelings  of  affection.  ^ 

1  But  it  is  higlily  advisable  to  remember  that,  whilst  our 
grandmothers  (hew  for  us  touching  pictures  of  the  affectionate 
relations  between  well-conditioned  mistresses  and  servants,  we 
naturally  hear  nought  of  the  sufferings  of  servants  at  tlie  hands 
of  ill-conditioned  mistresses.  We  linovv  of  no  more  ridiculous 
example  of  the  almost  incredible  lengths  to  which  this  precious 
caste-arrogance  may  go,  than  is  afforded  by  a  passage  iu  one  of 
De  Quincey's  autobiographical  sketches,  Tht  Female  lujidd 
— "My  mother,  by  original  choice,  and  by  early  training  under 
a  very  aristocratic  fatlier,  recoiled  as  austerely  from  all  direct 
communication  v-ith  her  servants,  as  the  Pythia  at  Delphi  from 
the  attendants  that  swept  out  the  temple."  (Hee  also  a  passage 
in  his  lutrodacilon  to  the    World  of  Strife— ''My  motlier,  wlio 


TJie  Servant  Question.  37 

Tf  may  perhaps  then  be  inferred  that  any  possibility  of 
resuming  the  old  aftectionate  rehxtions  is  now  doomed, 
and  that  there  will  be  a  mutual  standing-upon-one's- 
rights  until  the  end  of  the  chapter  :  such,  however,  is — 
we  trust — not  the  case  :  and  we  'ftitroduced  the  com- 
ments on  the  caste-opposition  to  servants'  emancipation 
in  order  to  mark  what  appeared  to  us  the  poison-fount. 
The  long-service-system,  with  its  concomitant  develop- 
ment of  affection,  is  not — we  hope — incompatible  with 
servants'  independence  and  servants'  rights,  but  only 
inrnmpatible  tvith  the  mutual  distrust  and  re&entynent  born 
of  the  bitter  opposition,  manifested,  in  tlie  past  and  in 
the  present,  to  the  advance  of  the  servants.  So  long  as 
employers  loill  take  the  caste-view,  so  long  as  they  will 
insist  that  a  servant  is  their  god-appointed  subject,  so 
long  will  any  re-establishment  of  good  feeling  remain 
impossible. 

If  this  view  be  correct,  employei's  as  a  class  have 
mainly  themselves  to  thank  for  all  the  present  discom- 
fort and  irritation ;  and  a  re-establisliment  may  be 
effected  when  they  meet  the  servants  halfway — or  more 
than  halfway — and,  by  taking  trouble  for  their  comfort 
and  by  consulting  their  feelings,  make  tlifem  feel  them- 
selves real  members  of  the  family.  In  other  words, 
affectionate  relations  were  possible  when  servants  had  no 
rights  :  and  they  will  be  possible  when  servants'  rights 
and  privileges  are  fully  and  loyally  recognised  :  but  they 


never  chose  to  have  any  direct  communicntion  with  her  servants, 
always  had  a  housekeeper  for  the  regulation  of  all  domestic 
business.") 


38  The  Servant  Question. 

can  lianlly  be  expected  in  this   transition-time  when  tlio 
rights  are  incomplete  and  are  grudgingly  conceded. 

In  the  foregoing  we  may  have  seemed — almost  neces- 
sarily perhaps  —  to  attribute  all  the  faults  to  the 
mistresses  and  all  Uke  virtues  to  the  servants  :  but  this 
of  course  were  absurd.  With  all  our  strong  sympathies 
for  the  weaker  side,  "we  recognise  fully — if  only  irom 
personally  unpleasant  experience,  'twere  enougu — the 
abundant  faults  of  many  servants,  which  render  it  aimosc 
impossible  for  the  noblest-raiuded  mistress  to  taste  an 
abiding  interest  in  them,  and  almost  preclude  the  possi- 
bility of  granting  special  indulgences — the  granting  of 
which,  so  far  from  creating  a  reciprocal  feeling  of  good- 
will, would  only  be  taken  advantage  of.  We  are  also 
free  to  admit  that  nowadays  many  young  servants  con- 
stantly change  their  places  from  a  mere  sudden  mania 
for  change,  and  often  (as  we  can  assert  from  personal 
knowledge)  very  greatly  to  their  own  detriment  ■,  while 
doubtlessly  under  the  old  system  circumstances  would 
have  coerced  tliem  into  remaining  in  one  situation — to 
the  advantage  of  themselves  no  less  than  of  tlieir  em- 
ployers:  but  this  does  not  justify  us  in  yearning  for  the 
return  of  a  vicious  system.  For  the  rest,  we  must  trust 
to  time,  and  to  the  effects  of  a  real  education,  and  to  the 
fact  that  the — far  better-treated — servants  of  the  future 
will  probably  be  drawn  from  a  higher  social  stratum 
than  that  which  at  present  supplies  us.  Above  all,  let 
it  be  remembered  that  the  wise  training  and  friendly 
counsel  given  by  a  mistress  to  a  maid  in  her  first  situa- 
tion, may  make  ail  the  difference  for  good  or  ill  to  the 
girl's  after  life  :  it  is  upon  the  early  training  given  by 


The  Servant  Question.  39 

mistresses  that  mistresses  must  in  great  measure  relj  for 
the  fashioning  of  their  servants. 

Now  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  may  seem  a  mere 
digression ;  but  it  is  really  a  necessary  preliminary  if  one 
desire  to  speculate  on  the  probable  position  of  servants  in 
a  higher-evolved  social  state.  We  do  not  so  much  pro- 
pose to  enquire  now  whether  domestic  servants  in  any 
form  will  exist  in  Utopia  itself;  for  such  enquiry  were 
somewhat  futile  and  would  have  but  small  bearing  on  the 
present :  our  concern  in  this  essay,  thro'out,  is  rather 
with  a  social  state,  tho  considerably  in  advance  of,  yet 
evidently  in  touch  with,  our  own  ;  and  we  wish  to 
examine  how  far  we  might  at  once  realise  it,  if  we — and 
others — chose. 

Now  clearly  some  preliminary  conditions  must  be  laid 
down.  It  appears  to  us  that  our  efforts  should  be 
directed  to  the  enquiry  (1)  how  far  servants  may  be 
dispensed  with  altogether,  and  (2)  how  far  their  work 
may  be  so  modified  as  to  comprise  nothing  essentially 
repugnant : — this  latter  condition  with  regard  to  every 
occupation  being  very  important  if  we  would  have  a 
happy  social  state.  It  is  not  clear — any  exact  data  being 
non-existent — whether  we  should  anticipate  a  gi-eater 
dearth  of  servants  at  a  later  time,  or  not.  Arguing  from 
the  present  tendency,  clearly  we  should  ;  and  in  that 
case  there  were  obvious  reasons  for  enquiring  how  far  we 
may  do  without  them.  But  nevertheless  it  appears  to 
us  not  improbable,  and  that  for  several  reasons,  that 
there  may  yet  be  an  abundance  of  domestic  servants. 
We  take  it  for  granted  that  their  wages  will  continue  to 
rise,  and  this  alone  will  of  coarse  prove  an  atti'actiou ; 


40  Tlie  Servant  Question. 

while  the  great  amelioration  of  their  lot  which  we  antici- 
pate will  not  only  reconcile  to  domestic  service  large 
numbers  who  at  present  prefer  the  independence  of,  e.g., 
factory-life,  but  will  moreover  bring  into  their  ranks 
many  who  now  earn  a  miserable  livelihood  as  tenth-rate 
governesses,  altho  really  wholly  unfit  for  teaching. 
Furthermore,  for  reasons  which  will  be  apparent  later,  it 
seems  to  us  that  the  number  of  servants  employed  in 
any  one  household  will  rarely  excede  one  or  two,  and 
consequently,  in  so  far,  the  demand  (as  compared  with 
the  present)  will  be  appreciably  lessened  and  the  supply 
increased.  However,  since  so  many  other  and  disturbing 
factors  enter  into  this  problem,  it  is  impossible  to  form 
any  conclusion  at  the  present  time. 

Now  anybody  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  walk  round 
his  house  with  his  eyes  open  (instead  of,  as  usually,  &hu£) 
may  speedily  discover  various  domestic  duties  which  are, 
in  reality,  wholly  unnecessary,  and  could  be  dispensed  with 
at  once  if  necessity  arose.  To  begin  with  the  beginning 
of  the  day — what  is  a  servant's  first  duty  when  she  comes 
downstairs?  We  understand  that  it  is  to  clear  up  the 
various  fire-grates,  and  to  generally  prowl  around  with 
ashes,  cinders,  and  blacklead-pots-and-brushes — to  the 
no  small  detriment  of  her  hands.  Now  it  is  absolutely 
certain  that  this  sj'stem  is  doomed — for  our  wasteful 
English  practice  of  heating  by  open  hearths  will  be  sup- 
planted in  favour  either  of  a  system  of  hot  pipes  connected 
with  one  central  huge  fire,  or  of  gas-stoves  in  each  room : 
either  plan  will  abolish  the  whole  dirty  work  of  black- 
leading.  ^ 

'  And  anyone  who  does  "keep  Ins  eyes  open,  aud  observes  how 


The  Servant  Question.  41 

Again  it  is  very  usual  to  have  white  hearthstones,  and 
also  an  array  of  white  doorsteps,  which  a  housemaid  is 
compelled  to  periodically  clean  ;  and  it  is  surely  a  piteoufj 
sight  to  see  some  young  girl  on  a  bitter  bleak  wintry 
morning  kneeling  out  in  the  open  air  and  slaving  at  those 
miserable  doorsteps  !  What  sort  of  hands  can  one  expect 
to  find  her  possessing  after  such  work — what  but  coarse 
rough  chapped  hands'?  And  why  should  fair  hands  be 
confined  to  a  lady  ?  No :  rest  assured  that  white 
hearthstones  and  white  doorsteps  are  also  doomed — as 
everything  entailing  useless  work,  ivorJc  'producing  neither 
pleasure  nor  profit,  is  doomed  in  a  better  social  state. 

The  next  duty  of  the  servants,  we  presume,  would  be 
to  dust  and  sweep  out  the  living-rooms  ;  and  here  we  do 
not  see  any  escape  :  "  matter  in  the  wrong  place  "  must 
always  be  removed,  and,  since  intolerance  of  dirt  is  de- 
veloped pari  2->cissii.  with  civilisation,  it  is  in  no  wise 
probable  that  higlier-evolved  man  will  remit  the  least 
proportion  of  this  de})artment  of  liousehold  work.  One 
may  possibly  hope  that  advancing  electrical  science  will 
solve  this  problem  by  some  sj'stem  of  dust-collectors,  de- 
pending on  a  polarisation  of  the  dust  particles;  and  it 
is  even  conceivable  that  the  dust  might  be  collected  into 
a  dust-suiallower  by  some  merely  mechanical  contrivance 
producing  vortices  or  whirlwinds  in  each  room:  but  since 
such  hopes  are  somewhat  chimerical — certainly  so  at  the 
present   time — we   prefer  not  to  rely  upon  them.     One 

things  go  in  an  ordinary  English  middleclass  home  when  perhaps 
several  visitors  are  present  in  cold  weather,  and  fires  are  required 
in  various  rooms,  will  not  depreciate  the  difference  thus  made  in 
the  servant's  work. 
4 


42  The  Servant  Question. 

may,  however,  make  two  observations  on  the  snbjoct  of 
dusting  aud  sweeping  :  Firstly,  that  with  tlie  abulitiou  of 
smoke,  the  work  in  city-houses  will  be  immensely  de- 
creased, m  fact  brouL'ht  down  almost  to  the  country 
minimum ;  and  secondly,  that  in  this  work  there  is 
nothing  actually  unhealthy  or  repugnant  (as  in  dirty 
work) ;  in  fact,  the  sweeping  is  healthy  exercise,  and 
many  ladies  allow  none  but  their  daughters  to  dust 
drawing-room  treasures.  It  seems  to  us  especially  for- 
tunate that  this  department  of  household  work,  which 
cannot  as  yet  be  superseded,  is  practically  almost  un- 
objectionable. 

Let  us  procede  with  the  servant's  daily  duties.  "What 
would  be  her  next  task  ]  Probably  to  clean  and  black 
the  boots.  Here  again  we  may  feel  very  well  assured 
that  a  change  in  the  direction  of  abolition  will  occur  anon. 
It  is — we  presume — not  known  who  was  the  miserable 
idiot  that  first  introduced  the  dirty  and  objectionable 
practice  of  covering  our  boots  with  blacking  ;  but  anyone 
who  likes  to  dip  into  the  future  may  satisfy  himself  that 
the  boots  for  future  wear  will  be  either  of  patent  leather 
or  brown,  or  at  anyrate  something  other  than  blacked;  so 
that  here  again  the  quantity  of  domestic  work  will  he 
lessened,  and  the  quality  much  improved.  Knife  clean- 
ing, and  the  washing-up  of  glass  aud  crockery-ware,  will 
always  be  necessary  ;  but  in  such  work  there  is — for- 
tunately— nothing  at  all  objectionable  or  onerous. 

It  were  of  course  hardly  feasible,  and  neither  is  it 
necessary,  to  follow  the  servant  thro  every  department 
of  the  day's  work  ;  our  object  is  simply  to  show  how 
readily  the  quantity  of  household  work,  and  consequently 


The  Servant  Question.  43 

tlie  need  for  servants,  may  be  diminished,  and  also  bow 
the  quality  of  it — by  the  deletion  of  unsavoury  portions 
— may  be  so  improved  that  there  may  be  nothing  left  in 
household  service  repugnant  to  the  feelings  of  a  refined 
and  tolerably  educated  girl.i 

Of  course  the  intellectuaL  girl  will  never  be  employed 
on  housemaids'  work  ; — 'twould  be  a  wicked  waste  of  her 
brain-power:  V)ut  not  all  can  be  highly  intellectual,  and  yet 
all  may  be  educated  and  refined.  Now  when  such  a  con- 
summation as  that  here  depicted  shall  have  been  attained, 
it  is  clear  that  tbe  problem  of  how  to  admit  servants  to 

1  To  cjive  one  more  example, — which  is  certainly  necessary  tho 
unsavoury, — the  most  disgusting  part  of  a  housemaid's  work 
could  and  would  he  at  once — now — abolished,  had  the  girls  only 
the  sense  to  "  strike  "  against  it.  It  is  a  disgrace  to  our  civilisa- 
tion that  builders  have  not  ages  since  been  compelled  to  construct  a 
simplest  possible  arrangement  in  every  bedroom  that  would  en- 
tirely obviate  the  necessity  for  this  disgusting  work — which  we 
lay  upon  yoinig  cjirls.  Now  this,  altho  a  disagreeable  subject,  is 
really  one  full  of  instruction  and  carries  a  significant  moral.  It 
typically  illustrates  that  very  peculiar  product  of  tiie  human 
spirit  -caste-sympathy.  We  deliberately  ordain  that  j'oung  girls 
shall  daily  discharge  an  office  of  so  repulsive  a  nature  that  even 
the  by-no  means-very-refined  lowermiddle-class  Philistine  man 
would  resent  it,  and  consider  himself  degraded  by  the  per- 
formance of  such  work.  Are  we  to  assume  that  these  young 
girls  — tho  lowly  born — are  so  destitute  of  any  feelings  of  refine- 
ment that  they  can  adopt  this  phase  of  their  work  without  re- 
pugnance ?  Surely  no — in  which  case  we  are  responsible  for 
systematically  disrcfining  and  lowering  them  by  habituating 
them  to  such  work.  This  however  is  only  one  of  many  cases  in 
point ;  but  for  a  further  discussion  of  the  subject  we  must  refer 
the  reader  to  chapter  v. — at  the  same  time  asking  him  to  note 
that,  logically,  the  whole  of  that  chapter  is  immediately  sequent 
to  this  note,  altlio  for  liis  convenience  the  discussion  was  relegated 
to  a  separate  chapter  instead  of  being  placed  here  as  a  lengtiiy 
footnote. 


44  '^^'■^  Servant  Question. 

the  "  family,"  how  to  cultivate  their  friendsliip,  will  have 
beeu  solved  for  good. 

But  however  that  may  he  in  the  far  future,  we  have 
yet  to  do  with  the  present  and  the  near  future  ;  and  it  is 
advisable  to  enquire  what  amendments  can  be  introduced 
in  varied  ways  into  the  present  arrangements  or  dis- 
arran<reraents — for  servants'  comfort — or  discomfort. 

In  the  first  place — premising  all  the  reforms,  per 
abolition,  or  otherwise,  that  we  have  ah'eady  indicated — 
we  may  take  it  that  a  very  speedy  reform  will  be  made 
in  the  fittings  of  the  servants'  bedrooms.  Any  considera- 
tion at  all  of  psychological  effects,  any  regard  at  all  for 
the  esthetic  tinting  of  our  sombre  soul-life,  would  teach 
us  that  the  bedroom,  whose  aspect  moulds  our  frame  of 
mind  at  night  as  we  gradually  fall  off  to  sleep,  and  at 
dawn  when  we  wake,  should  be  furnished  and  fitted  with 
the  most  scrupulous  regard  for  picturesqueness  and 
c.  imfort:  yet  the  very  common  aspect  of  even  "  tlie 
boys' "  bedrooms  in  a  normal  middle-class  household  is 
depressing  and  cold-blooded  to  a  degree  that  rcidly 
induces  shuddering  if  one  only  think  of  it :  fancy  oneself 
then  daily  experiencing  it  !  Instead  of  pictux-es,  life, 
light,  warmth,  color,  we  find  only  bareness,  ugliness,  and 
desolation.  If  such  then  be  the  measure  meted  out  to 
our  own  boys,  what  regard  was  likely  to  be  paid  to  the 
servants  1  But  we  may  rely  upon  it  that  the  reform 
must  come  here  also,  and  that   servants'  bedrooms^  will 

1  It  is  ofteu  stated  that  in  some  West-end  houses  a  servant 
sleeps  in  the  kitchen  under  the  dresser  !  As  will  be  observed, 
we  do  not  refer  to  such  l)arbarisin  as  this,  but  to  the  normal  dis- 
comfort of  a  servant's  room. 


The  Servant  Question.  45 

anon  be   furnished  and   fitted    pleasantly,   and   wanned 
rationally.  ^ 

Again,  under  our  present  regime,  the  servants  have  no 
living-room  other  than  the  kitchen  with  its  ever-present 
culinary  smells  :  no  builder  ever  has  the  common-sense 
or  humanity  to  build,  adjacent  to  the  kitchen,  a  small 
room  which  might  be  used  as  a  servants'  sitting-room  : 
and,  if  he  did  so,  not  one  household  in  100  would  have 
the  sense  or  humanity  to  let  the  servants  use  it.  And 
yet  how  would  any  of  us  like  to  live  in  a  kitchen  ;  what 
chance  is  there  of  real  comfort  or  refinement  under  such 
conditions  %  But  no  one  ever  troubles  to  apply  the 
golden  rule  to  his  relations  with  servants.  Yet  it  would 
be  so  easy  to  alleviate  so  greatly  a  servant's  life  :  wath  a 
cosy  bedroom,  a  cosy,  well -lighted,  decently  -  fitted, 
sitting-room,  supplied  with  books — or  at  least  book- 
shelves— and  dedicated  wholly  to  the  servants'  use  ; 
with  the  abolition  of  dirty  work  as  already  indicated  ; 
and  with  the  abolition  also  of  ridiculous  and  insolent 
restrictions,  and  with  fair  facilities  for  visiting  and  en- 
tertaining her  friends  ;  surely  then  a  servant's  life  in  an 
ordinary  English  middle-class  househuld  would  become 
one  that  might  well  be  envied  and  coveted  by  many  a 
young  girl  who  must  needs  earn  her  own  living.  For 
even  with  all  the  drawbacks  which  we  have  so  fully 
admitted,  it  must  be  remembered  how  immensely 
superior  is  the  lot  of  a   housemaid,   living   in  a  large, 

1  At  present,  people  wlio  pride  themselves  on  their  "  common 
sense  "  will  sit  all  the  evening  in  a  room  at  70°,  and  then  widres.i 
in  a  room  at  35° !  So  long  as  they  are  content  witli  this  for 
themselves,  there  is  clearly  no  hope  for  servants. 


4^  The  Servant  Question. 

airy,  healthy,  house,  in  a  good  neighborhood,  and  having 
abundance  of  generous  fare,  to  that  of  her  sister  hving 
(sometimes  perhaps  with  dithcultj)  on  far  iulcriur  fjod, 
in  a  small  stuffy  unliealthy  cottage  or  flat. 

We  spoke  just  now  of  liberty  to  receive  friends  ;  and 
that  reminds  us  how  cruel  is  the  oftentimes-present 
treatment  of  servants.  Tlie  doctrine  (tacit  or  avowed) 
that  they  are  born  simply  to  minister  to  our  comfort  and 
not  to  their  own,  has  sunk  so  deep  into  the  employer- 
mind  that  in  many  households  it  is  looked  upon  as  a 
distinct  piece  of  wickedness  if  a  servant  dare  to  receive 
the  visits  of  friends  in  the  kitchen.^  Our  own  lives 
would    be    intolerable    without    the    sunshine    of   loving 

'  Here  again  we  may  with  advantage  qnote  from  Punch,  and 
among  Leech's  drawings  will  be  found  two  that  are  excedingly 
pertinent  to  the  subject.  The  tirst,  "An  Artful  Excuse  "  (1847) 
{I.  p.  94),  is  a  double  cut,  representing,  on  the  one  side,  an  ex- 
terior, witli  a  sol  ier  waiting  at  the  garden  gate  ;  and  on  the 
other  an  interior — a  maid-servant  entering  the  sitting-room  with 
a  request,  "  Oh,  if  you  please,  could  I  go  out  for  half  an  hour  to 
buy  a  piece  of  ribbon?"  In  the  second,  "Not  Very  Likely" 
(1850)  (I.  108),  a  sliocking  old  fright  of  a  mistress,  suddenly  enti-r. 
ing  the  kitchen,  discovers  there  a  redcoat  (unmistakably  from  the 
Emerald  Isle).  With  a  countenance  expressive  of  the  utmost 
indignation  and  horror,  she  enquires,  "  Well !  I'm  sure  !  And 
pray  who  is  that?"  "Oh,  if  you  please,  ma'am,  it  is  only  my 
cousin  who  has  called  just  to  show  me  how  to  boil  a  potato.'' 
We  know  not  liow  it  may  strike  others,  but  there  appears  to  us 
to  be  a  significant  moral  here.  So  little  is  it  tolerated  that  a 
m'.re  servant  should  expect  the  ordinary  joys  of  life,  that  to 
receive  a  visit  from  a  sweetheart  is  considered  appalling 
wickedness,  and  has  to  be  schemeil  for  and  lied  for  by  her.  Tlie 
tone  of  the  mistress  and  the  expression  of  her  face  alike  empha- 
sise her  unbounded  horror  and  astonishment  that  a  young 
servant  (living  alono  bythe-bye — weary  life  !)  should  desire  any 
youthful  joys. 

iie  who  ru/is  may  read  ! 


The  Servant  Question.  47 

faces ;  but,  that  a  mere  servant  (enjoying  none  of  our 
other  sources  of  happiness,  and  perhaps  living  as  a  sin- 
gle servant  too)  should  presume  to  require  friends,  is  a 
shocking  instance  of  domestique  depravity  !  Of  course  we 
will  very  fully  admit  that,  if  the  servants  of  near  neigh- 
bors associate,  the  manufacture  of  scandal  regarding 
their  respective  households  will  be  something  appalling 
(tho  in  five  cases  out  of  six  they  be  no  whit  worse  than 
their  mistresses  as  regards  either  truth  or  charity) ;  and 
we  would  very  greatly  prefer  that  our  own  servants' 
friends  were  not  the  servants  of  near  neighbors  ;  but,  for 
the  rest,  we  would  insist  upon  the  very  heretical  pro- 
position that  servants  should,  so  far  as  possible,  have — 
not  one  evening  a  fortnight  but — nearly  every  evening 
to  themselves,  with  full  liberty  to  visit  their  friends  or  to 
receive  them.  We  fail  to  perceive  anything  inherently 
absurd  or  depraved  in  this  proposition  ;  or  anything  that 
is  not  inherently  absurd  in  the  counter-proposition  that 
servants  should  have  no  companions,  and  inherently  self- 
ish in  the  current  practice. 

This  brief  discussion  is  perhaps  sufficient  to  outline 
the  forms  which  domestic  service  may  reasonably  be  ex- 
pected to  assume  in  the  not  very  distant  future.  It  will 
be  seen  that,  once  having  put  aside  the  actually  dirty 
part  of  a  housemaid's  work,  there  is  nothing  that  a  girl 
of  tolerable  education  and  refinement  might  not  under- 
take ;  and  we  confidently  anticipate  that  in  the  coming 
time  large  numbers  of  girls  of  even  "gentle"  or  fairly 
"  gentle  "  birth,  who  find  it  necessary  to  earn  their  daily 
bread,  may  secure  congenial  and  happy  homes  by  under- 
taking domestic  service.     We  would  most  emphatically 


48  The  Servant  Question. 

protest  against  the  notion  that  there  is  anything  "  menial  " 
or  "  degrading  "  in  a  servant's  occupation  (reformed  as 
we  have  indicated),  or  anything  that  might  not  well  be 
undertaken  by  such  girls.  Most  of  all  would  we  protest 
against  the  notion  that  there  is  something  particularly 
humiliating  in  "  waiting  "  at  table  :  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
a  peculiarly  gracious  role  to  fill — a  role  formerly  appro- 
priated to  the  sons  of  noblemen  and  haughty  knights : 
and  so  strongly  do  we  feel  the  many  advantages  accruing 
to  those  who  do  thus  "  stand  and  wait,"  and  so  little  do 
we  deem  it  an  humiliating  task,  that,  had  we  children, 
we  should  delegate  to  them  as  much  as  possible  the 
duties  of  waiting  upon  our  guests  at  dinner.  AVhosoever 
deems  it  humiliating  or  unpleasant  to  serve  a  lady  with 
food  and  drink  must  have  a  somewhat  jaundiced  habit 
of  regarding  the  world  :  and  pray  how  would  such  an 
one  comport  himself  at  a  picnic  ? 

While  thus  anticipating  abundant  new  recruits  to  the 
domestique  ranks  by-and-bye,  it  must  of  course  be  ad- 
mitted that  such  new  recruits  cannot  possibly  be  ex- 
pected yet :  a  mild  revulsion  of  feelings  and  of  manners 
must  precede  their  advent.  Obviously  there  are  indis- 
pensable preliminaries  :  reforms  such  as  we  have  indi- 
cated, both  as  regards  the  work  of  servants,  their 
treatment,  and  their  wages,  must  be  instituted :  con- 
siderably more  regard  must  be  paid  to  their  comfort  (as 
already  pointed  out),  and  far  more  liberty  and  independ- 
ence must  be  accorded  to  them ;  while  lastly — or  shall 
we  not  say  primarily — public  opinion  must  be  so  far 
revolutionised  as  to  regard  domestic  service  as  honour- 
able, and  consistent  with  refinement,  dignity,  and  inde- 


The  Servant  Question.  49 

pendence :  in  fact  domestic  servants  must  finally  be 
elevated  to  the  position  now  occupied  by  governesses.^ 
It  sliould  however  be  clearly  understood  that  to  the 
success  of  this  scheme  it  is  in  no  wise  essential  that  we 
should  entirely  cease  to  draw  servants  from — as  at 
present — the  illiterate  and  peasant  classes,  or  supersede 
them  wholly  by  drafts  from  classes  that  now,  e.g.,  yield 
us  nursery -governesses.  On  the  contrary  :  for,  altho  it 
appears  to  us  highly  probable  that  this  will  be  the  final 
condition — partly  perhaps   because  (once  the  fashion  is 

'  A  day  or  two  after  writing  the  above  we  chanced  upon  a 
newspaper-par'agraph,  from  which  it  appears  tliat  some  pro 
gress  is  actually  being  made  in  this  direction.  It  seems  that  a 
Gentlewomen' s-Employmcnt-AsftociationvftiS  started  in  Manoliester 
in  1891  (apparently), and  altho  "it  has  met  with  soniepractical  diffi- 
culties, on  the  whole  it  seems  to  liave  made  a  good  start.  Daring 
the  first  week  after  opening  tlie  register  th-^re  was  an  extraor- 
dinary rush  of  applicants  ;  but  tliese  gentlewomen  betrayed 
lamentable  ignorance  of  the  requirements  of  employers.  A  con- . 
siderable  number  wanted  to  be  lady-comp:inions,  but  no  em- 
ployer appeared  to  be  in  want  of  anything  of  this  genteel  kind. 
On  the  other  hand  the  Association  has  numerous  vacancies  for 
ladies  in  other  capacities,  and  the  Committee  are  convinced  that 
tliere  is  a  promising  field  for  the  employment  of  gentlewomen 
who  have  only  received  a  training  in  private  households — all 
that  is  needed  being  a  reorganisation  of  domestic  work,  -so  as  to 
bring  it  within  the  scope  of  a  different  class,  and  a  recognition 
on  the  part  of  all  concerned  that  there  is  as  little  loss  of  dignity 
involved  here  as  in  the  work  of  governesses  or  iiospital-nurses. 
The  Committee  complain  that  there  is  a  strange  notion  abroad 
that  a  lady  should  be  remunerated  on  a  lower  scale  than  ia 
usual  in  the  case  of  an  ordinary  domestic  servant." 

Certainly  it  is  most  satisfactory  to  find  our  speculative 
Bchemes  re-echoed  almost  word  for  word  by  a  practical  associa- 
tion. We  need  hardly  add  how  desirable  it  is — and  the  more  so 
in  face  of  this  movement— to  eliminate  from  our  speech  and  our 
minds,  as  quickly  as  possible,  such  phrases  as  "menial"  and 
"  lackey." 


50  TJie  Servant  Question. 

instituted)  we  should  prefer  the  new  class,  whilst  the 
others  would  more  and  more  continue  to  drift  into 
factory-work  and  such-like  occupations,  but  even  still 
more,  eventually,  because  the  illiterate  and  unrefined 
class  will  have  disappeared,  owing  to  the  descendants  of 
those  who  now  compose  it  having  been  levelled  up  to  a 
higher  standard '^ — yet  we  anticipate  the  advent  of  tlie 
new-era  domestic  servant  long  before  then.  Of  course 
it  is  obvious  that  two  servants  drawn  from  such  very 
diflferent  classes  cannot  associate  in  the  same  house  :  and 
in  so  saying  we  are  not  venting  a  caste-feeling  bat 
simply  admitting  a  limitation,  the  necessity  of  which 
must  be  patent  to  everybody ;  for  companionship  be- 
tween two  persons  in  utterly  diflferent  stages  of  rellne- 
ment  is  quite  impossible  :  but,  admitting  tiiis,  it  by  no 
means  follows  that  the  tivo  classes  of  servants  cannot 
co-exist:  all  that  is  necessary  is  to  take  care  that  in  each 
household  only  one  class  is  represented. 

Now  taking  into  account  all  these  conditions  we  ask 
whether  girls  of  the  middleclass,  who  may  be  driven  to 
earn  their  living,  would  not  find  their  life  far  happier,  far 
healthier — both  physically  and  morally  —  far  more 
gracious  altogether,  if  they  lived  as  domestic  servants  in 
(perhaps  a  country)  home  where  their  dignity  and  inde- 

^  It  may  be  retorted  that  the  higher  classes  would  equally 
have  progressed,  and  thus  the  relative  diti'erences  remain  the 
same.  But  this  we  think  were  incorrect.  In  estimating  tlie 
possibilities  of  companionship  we  have  to  regard  not  so  much 
the  amount  of  higher  education  possessed  (for  most  real  ladies 
and  real  gentlemen  of  the  present  day  are  deplorably  ignorant,  and 
almost  wholly  uneducated  in  a  true  sense)  as  the  attainment  of 
a  certain  minimum  stage  of  rejinement — winch  however  of  cuursa 
excludes  "  illiterateness  '  or  bucolicism. 


The  Servant  Question.  51 

pendence  were  fully  recognised,  and  where  perchance  a 
good  deal  of  tolerably  intimate  companionship  with  a 
cultured  and  gracious  "mistress"  fell  to  their  lot,  than 
if  they  slaved  hard  all  day  as  clerks  in  some  dark  and 
dingy  city-office,  or  employed  themselves  in  many  other 
of  the  methods  by  which  such  girls  now  earn  a  hard,  a 
bittei'ly  hard,  livelihood — in  competition  perchance  with 
men.  It  may  retorted  that  the  latter  occupations  are 
paid  so  vastly  better  :  but  it  is  forgotten  that  "  servants  " 
are  paid  chiefly  in  hind^  and  that  their  money  wages  re- 
present only  a  small  balance  of  their  total  wages.  A 
servant,  receiving  twenty  pounds  a  year,  but  boarded 
gratis  on  good  food,  and  lodged  in  a  large  and  healthy 
house,  is  incomparably  better  paid  than  her  fellow,  slaving 
in  the  City  for  a  miserable  £50  per  year — and  never  sure 
of  her  situation.  1 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  continue  farther  this  part  of 
the  examination  :  taking  as  an  example  the  housemaid,  we 
have  seen  how  desirable  a  work  hers  might  be  :  and  it  were 
beyond  our  purpose  to  take  in  detail  the  duties  of  every 
servant,  and  determine  what  reforms  are  necessary,  or  how 
far  the  work  may  be  already  unimpeachable.  It  is  suffi- 
ciently clear  that  a  servant's  duties  are  very  compatible 
with  the  selfregard  of  gentle  birth  :  whilst,  since  so  many 
ladies  now  study  cookery,  and  insist  on  superintending, 
or  actually  executing,  the  cookery  of  their  own  households, 

'  Besides  which  it  must  be  remeinbered — (1)  that  we  anticipate 
a  somewhat  higherrate  of  wages  (and  fewer  servants  in  each  home); 
and  (2)  that  if  the  worst  come,  a  "  servant "  of  such  a  character, 
if  living  many  years  in  one  home,  might  confidently  reckon  on 
her  savings  being  supplemented — when  she  sliould  be  past  work 
— by  a  pension  iu  either  money  or  board  and  lodging. 


52  The  Servant  Question. 

it  is  clear  that  our  iiew-adveut-servauta  may   very  well 
undertake  this  role  also. -"^ 

It  will  be  convenient,  before  closing  this  chapter,  to 
offer  one  or  two  very  brief  suggestions  as  to  a  develop- 
ment of  family  life,  that  may  with  some  reason  be  ex- 
pected in  the  future.  Everybody  will  admit  far  greater 
happiness  and  jollity  to  exist  in  a  large  household  than  in 
a  small  one  :  and  in  a  higher  social  state,  when  human 
nature  is  less  selfish  and  disagreeal)le  individuals  are 
fewer,  the  happiness  of  large  households  will  be  consider- 
5ibly  increased.  But  now,  since  it  may  be  regarded  as 
axiomatic  "  that  in  a  comparatively  rational  and  moral 
society  families  of  more  than  two  or  thi'ee  childx'en  will 

'  Sometimes  a  cook's  duties  may  become  excediiigly  unpleasant, 
but  one  may  anticipate  reforms  here  :  and  after  all,  many  ladies 
now  walk  the  hospitals  and  attend  the  dissection  room  :  wliat 
has  the  cook  as  bad  as  that  ?  Cf.  iiijra  the  discussion  on  Vege- 
tarianism, pp.  207,  and  225-8. 

-  As  an  abstract  principle  we  are  of  coiirse  strong  advocates  of 
very  snuiU  families — -and  that  for  many  reasons  too  obvious  to 
require  discussion  here  :  whilst  it  seems  certainly  axiomatic  to 
us  that  whenever,  in  an  ideal  society,  the  population  of  the 
world  shall  have  reached  the  maximum  desirable,  then,  assunang 
every  one  to  m.arry  and  no  children  to  die  young,  the  family  will 
invariably  consist  of  two  children  only,  thus  exactly  preserving 
the  balance  of  population.  Moreover,  even  in  this  so  excessively 
7iOJi-ideal  state,  our  leanings  are  also  strongly  towards  small 
families — not  liowever  as  promoted  by  late  marriages  with  all 
their  moral  and  emotional  loss,  but  by  temperance  after  eai'ly 
marriage  :  but  unfortunately  the  problem  is,  from  tlie  point  of 
view  of  social  desiderata,  terribly  complicated.  If  Malthusian 
precepts  could  be  hammered  into  those  who  most  need  them  and 
never  act  upon  them,  viz.,  tiie  poor  and  the  ignorant,  then  we 
ndght  far  more  easily  regenerate  society  :  but  unhappily,  the 
more  we  preach  Malthusianism,  the  more  do  we  affect  the  con- 
duct of  the  conscientious,  highminded,  and  intelligent,  membera 


The  Servant  Question.  53 

be  unknown,  it  is  cleai-  that  large  households  of  one 
family  each  cannot  exist.  The  solution  to  this  difficulty 
is  that  several  families  of  intimate  friends  will  combine 
to  form  one  large  household.  Each  family  will  have  its 
own  particular  suite  of  bedrooms,  and  at  least  one  private 
sitting-room  ;  whilst  there  will  be  a  large  common 
dining-room  and  drawing-room,  etc.  The  advantages  of 
this  system  are  so  manifold  that  it  is  indeed  strange  to 
find   it   ahnost   unknown   among  us  :    since,   by  such    a 

of  society — wliile  we  may  make  but  little  headway  among  those 
who  pre-eminently  oxujlit  to  adopt  Malthus'  canons.  The  result 
is  apt  to  be  therefor  that  the  prudent,  intelligent,  and  generally 
elevated,  types  of  citizens  have  few  children  to  inherit  their  good 
qualities  ;  whilst  the  reckless,  the  stupid,  the  improvident,  and 
the  clergy,  have  large  families  :  so  that  at  this  rate  the  nation 
would  more  and  more  tend  to  be  swamped  by  lower  types. 
Here  therefor  is  as  terrible  a  social  danger  as  that  of  over-popu- 
lation to  be  guarded  against :  one  must  steer  between  Scylla  and 
Charybdis — but  with  a  blind  and  mutinous  crew  !  Now  in  a 
former  work,  the  Cry  of  the  Children,  we  were  at  pains  to  set 
forth  strongly  the  v\ickedness  of  begetting  large  families — for  we 
appealed  especially  to  the  poor,  and  the  lower  or  average  middle 
classes,  who  usually  cannot  afford  a  family  half  as  large  as  they 
rear,  and  whose  mental  and  other  endowments  are  not  usually 
such  as  to  make  the  preservation  of  a  large  posterity  by  any 
means  a  source  of  gratulation  to  the  State.  But,  lest  this  aspect 
might  receive  undue  prominence,  we  think  it. highly  important 
to  call  the  attention  of  intellectual  readers,  and  anti-Philistines 
generally,  to  the  immense  importance  of  increasing  the  numbers 
of  our  intellectual  races  by  encouraging  their  members  to  marry 
early,  and  to  rear  more  than  only  two  or  three  children.  The 
vital  importance  of  thus  painlessly  supplanting  the  lower  social 
types  by  the  higher  is  admirably  set  forth  by  Mr.  Francis  Galton 
in  his  Hereditary  Genius,  Xatural  Inheritance,  and  Enquiry  into 
Human  Faculty,  to  which  books  we  refer  our  readers  for  the  study 
of  thissuliject.  Here  we  will  merely  quote  from  the  last-named  book 
a  calculation  showing  how  thoroly  and  i-)aink»dy ,  in  the  natural 
course  of  events,  the  weaker  and  lower  types  could  be  replaced 


54 


The  Servant  Question. 


scheme,  each  family  would  secure  the  inestimable  advan- 
tage of  privacy  whenever  it  wished  it,  with  tlie  concomi- 
tant advantage  of  ample  society  at  meal-times  and  when- 
ever otherwise  social  intercourse  were  desired.  Each 
lady   in   turn,    for  a   week   or   month   at  a  time,  would 

by  the  higher,  provided  only  that  the  latter  marry  early,  and  tiie 
former  either  marry  later  or  (as  we  should  desire)  refrain  from 
begetting  children  until  a  later  age. 


Age  of  Mother  at 
marriage. 

17 
22 
27 
32 


Approximate  average 
fertility. 

90  =  6  +   1-5 

7-5  =  5      — 

6-0  =   4      — 

4-5  =  3      — 


After 
number 
of  years 

as 
below. 

Number  of  female  descendants  who  themselves 
become  mothers. 

A. 

100  Mothers  whose  mar- 
riages and  those  of  tlieir 
daugliters  all   take  place 
at  age  of  20  years. 

Ratio  of  increase  in  each 
generation  being  1-5. 

B. 

100  Mothers  whose  mar- 
riages and  those  of  tiieir 
daughters  all   take    place 
at  age  of  29  years. 

Ratio  of  decrease  in  each 
generation  being  0-S5. 

108 
2i6 
324 

175 
299 
635 

61 
38 
2S 

At  the  same  time  we  must  express  our  strong  feeling  that,  to 
suggest  to  such  higher  types  families  of  five  or  six  children,  is  to 
impose  upon  the  mother,  at  least,  tlie  duty  of  making  a  very 
heavy  personal  sacritice  for  the  sake  of  buaetittiug  a  tolerably 
remote  posterity. 


TJie  Servant  Question.  55 

function  as  absolute  mistress  of  the  house ;  and  it  is  un- 
necessary to  point  out  liow  greatly  this  arrangement 
would  economise  labour  and  extend  the  leisure  of  all. 
It  is  equally  superfluous  to  point  out  that  a  house,  large 
and  commodious  enough  to  take  say  four  or  six  small 
families,  would  be  very  far  from  four  or  sis  times  as  ex- 
])en;sive  as  a  house  suitable  for  one  such  family.  In  fact, 
under  this  system  eveiy  one  would  have  the  satisfaction 
of  living  in  a  large  mansion  at  less  than  the  cost  of  a 
small  house.  1 

It  is  worth  while  also  to  point  out  that,  not  only  will 

'  And  we  might  sug'^'est  that  when,  with  the  advance  of  demo- 
cratic feeling,  it  has  become  more  and  more  distasteful  to  see  a 
large  mansion  monopolised  by  one  family — as  for  instance  all  our 
English  castles  and  country-honses  are — some  such  scheme  as  this 
will  he  introduced  to  dispose  of  the  trouble.  We  may  rest  fairly 
assured  then  that,  witli  increasing  democracy  and  continuous 
levelling  of  wealth,  stately  architecture  will  not  disappear,  nor 
English  country-houses  with  their  splendid  parks  become  things 
of  the  past  :  but  that  instead  of  ministering,  as  now,  to  the  sel- 
fi-<h  pleasures  of  one  family,  they  will  then  be  enjoyed  hy  many. 
We  very  confidently  prophesy  some  such  future  for  our  English 
historic  piles. 

Moreover,  we  may  point  out  how  admirable  an  opportunity 
such  a  system  would  otfer  for  paying  long  visits  without  the 
trouble  and  expense  of,  on  the  one  hand,  removing  one's  Lares 
and  Penates,  or,  on  the  otlier,  entrusting  •  one's  house  to 
caretakers  :  for  what  would  be  easier  than  periodically  to  ar- 
range temporary  exchange  of  house-room  with  others,  so  that  a 
f  imilj%  while  retaining  all  the  peculiarl3'  sacred  feelings  that 
attach  to  a  permanent — (not-rented) — home,  might  yet  gain  all 
the  advantages  of  constant  clianges  of  dwelling?  When  we  re- 
flect furtlier  that  at  present  our  large  country-houses  are  de- 
serted for  half  the  year,  and  our  London  houses  for  another  half, 
and  consider  how  much  selfish  waste  of  the  means  of  happiness 
this  implies,  we  may  then  look  forward  to  a  very  bright  and 
happy  future  for  home-life  :  for  town  and  country  livers  respec- 
tively will  temporarily  exchange  with  one  anotiier. 


56  The  Servant  Questiun. 

this  scheme  of  joint-households  minimise  very  considerably 
the  difficulties  of  the  servant  question — both  because  the 
larger  the  household  the  fewer  proportionally  are  the 
servants  required,  and  because  so  far  as  the  domestic 
work  be  done  by  the  household  themselves,  the  problem 
is  simplified  by  the  large  number  of  members,  while  the 
trouble  of  setting  aside  a  servant's  sitting-room,  tho  it 
may  be  serious  in  a  small  house,  becomes  ncdhing  in  a 
large  one, — but  that  it  is  attended  with  very  great  ad- 
vantages as  regards  the  children.  For  there  is  not  only 
always  plenty  of  society  for  them  on  the  premises,  but 
the  system  of  hom6  teaching,  by  a  governess  charged  with 
a  group  of  six  or  eight  children,  is  greatly  facilitated. 
Of  this  probable  development  we  have  spoken  elsewhere,^ 
and  we  shall  therefor  not  linger  here  on  the  subject ; 
but  it  is  clear  that  if  these  household-clubs  usually  con- 
sisted of  people  of  about  the  same  ages,  and  having  there- 
for very  probably  children  of  about  the  same  ages  too, 
these  children  would  be  far  more  companionable  together 
than  would  those  of  one  large  family. 

From  our  discussion  of  the  servant-question  it  may 
have  been  inferred — and  not  unnaturally — that  we  ad- 
vocated the  system — very  prevalent  we  believe  in  America, 
and  now  not  unknown  in  England — of  employing  a 
class  of  domestics  known  as  "  Helps  "  who  perform  the 
household  work,  but  are  admitted  into  the  family  circle. 
But,  altho  the  whole  tendency  of  our  suggestions  was  to 
some  such  cousununatiim,  yet  we  could  not  but  see  a 
grave  difficulty — which  seemed  to  render  this  solution, 
fur  the  sake  of  both  parties,  hardly  desirable  :  for  the 

'  Cry  of  the  Children,  pp.  97,  93. 


The  Servant  Question.  57 

regular  intrusion  of  such  an  outsider  might  become  very 
irksou^e  to  tlie  one  ;  while  tliis  very  sense  of  "  outsided- 
ness  and  intrusion  "  would  gall  any  independent-spirited 
employe :  some  separation  of  sitting-rooms  therefor 
would  seem  desirable.  But  now  it  is  clear  that  all  these 
difficulties  are  greatly  lessened  in  a  joint-household :  for 
there,  the  society  of  the  "  Helps "  would  not  seem  an 
intrusion  of  outsiders  as  it  would  in  a  single  small  house- 
hold, while  they  would  have  tlieir  private  sitting-room 
just  as  would  each  family. 

It  would  seem  probable  that  this  joint-household-system 
will  greatly  inhibit  the  increase  of  residential  clubs  and 
hotels  for  bachelors  and  spinsters  :  since  the  home-life 
would  be  so  far  more  marked,  without  involving  on  the 
one  hand  the  sacrifice  of  society,  or  the  danger  of  being 
thrown  into  the  society  of  very  disagreeable  co-inmates 
on  the  other — a  danger  to  which  one  is  always  liable  in 
residential  clubs  and  boarding-houses.^ 

1 1t  is  very  greatly  to  be  hoped  that  in  the  near  future  English- 
men will  set  themselves  seriously  to  consider  the  social  system 
now  in  vogue,  and  the  possible  reforms.  The  terrible  isolation 
and  solitariness  of  tlie  man,  who  takes  a  house  in  a  new  district, 
is  a  grave  evil  ;  and  even  when  he  has  "  made  "  a  small  circle  of 
"friends"  there  he  m;iy  see  very  little  social  life.  A  keen  ap- 
preciation of  the  drawbacks  of  such  isolation  has  led  to  a  pio- 
posal  to  form  local  clubs,  thro  tiie  medium  of  which  everyone 
might  come  to  know  everyone  else  in  the  district.  But  the 
Englishman's  wholesome  horror  of  being  robbed  of  his  privacy, 
and  his  equally  wholesome  objection  to  be  hail-fellow-well-met 
with  every  chance  neighbour,  are  likely  to  seriously  handicap 
any  such  scheme.  The  better  remedy  appeal's  to  us  to  be  this— 
that  little  colonies  should  be  formed  of  intimate  friends,  tliat 
a  number  of  intimate  friends  and  relatives  should  keep  liouse 
together  or  take  hous(^s  tolerably  contiguous,  so  that  they  would 
sulfer  neither  from  isolation  nor  from  "  bad  company,"  which  is 
often  not  "  better  " — but  worse — "  than  none." 


58  The  Servant  Question. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

Reference  may  be  made  here  to  a  short  article  on  "A  Refor- 
mation in  Domestic  Service  "  contributed  by  Mrs.  Lewis  to  the 
Nineteenth  Century  for  January,  1893.  With  the  spirit  that 
prompts  this  article,  with  its  denunciation  of  vulgar  disphiy, 
pomp,  and  wastefulness,  we  are  of  course  in  thoro  accord  ;  but 
we  fear  that  Mrs.  Lewis  does  not  go  far  enougli  with  us.  How- 
ever, our  present  concern  is  not  to  criticise  the  article,  but  to 
call  attention  to  one  liappy  suggestion  made  by  Mrs.  Lewis  that 
had  not  occurred  to  us  :  she  points  out  how  beer-making,  bread- 
making,  lauudry-work,  and  window-cleaning,  all  of  which  were 
ffirmerly  carried  out  by  the  permanent  staff  of  household-servants, 
are  now  relegated  to  outside  agencies,  with  great  economy  and 
greater  efficiency. 

Xow  why — sa\-s  Mrs.  Lewis — "  why  must  there  be  forty  fires 
kept  up  all  day  to  boil  fort\'  saucepans  of  potatos  (wlien  one 
larger  vessel  would  suffice)  and  forty  cooks,  more  or  less,  in  one 
small  street  ?  Forty  cooks,  each  with  her  accompanying  waste, 
peculations,  and  temptations  from  tradesmen,  and  with  all  tiie 
expenses  of  kitchen  and  scullery  w^are  and  a})pliances  to  be  kept 
up  forty  times  over,  while  forty  heads  of  households  are  racking 
their  brains  to  write  the  indispensable  orders  ?  .  ...  As  a 
remedy  against  so  much  wastefid  expenditure,  anxiety,  and 
uncertainty,  why  should  there  not  be  a  culinary  depot  in  each 
street  from  w'iiich  the  meals  could  be  sent  out  after  the  fashion 
of  every  foreign  town  where  i-esianrateuri  and  trattori  abound  ?" 
The  suggestion  is  certainly  well  wortliy  of  serious  consideration  ; 
and  it  is  scarcely  necessary  for  us  to  again  point  out  iiow  greatly 
the  possibility  of  a  Social  Utopia  is  advanced  by  the  suppression 
of  all  waste  either  of  time  or  material.  Mrs.  Lewis'  suggestion 
involves,  of  course,  simply  one  more  application  of  the  division 
of  labour,  and  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  it  may  be  found  very 
feasible  as  regards  cookery  at  any  rate  :  but  when  Mrs.  Lewis 
further  contemplates  the  advent  of  a  "noble  army  of  certificated 
day-housemaids  performing  the  matutinal  house-duties  with 
promptitude,  regularity,  and  thoroly  trained  skill,"  and  disap- 
pearing "  when  their  fairy  wands  have  done  their  office,"  so  that 
a  couple  or  so  of  permanent  house-servants  per  family  would  be 
sufficient  for  waitinr/  purposes,  etc. — then,  while  gladly  acknow- 
edging  how  great  a  reform  on  the  present  system  Mrs.  Lewis* 


Tlie  Servant  Question.  59 

sclieme  would  imply,  and  while  fully  appreciating  the  moral  ad- 
vantages of  "  certificated  day-housemaids,"  living  in  their  own 
lioines,  over  house-servants  isolated  from  their  own  kinsfolk  and 
friends,  yet  we  cannot  avoid  an  uneasy  suspicion  that  Mrs.  Lewis 
contemplates  very  considerably  less  levelliiui  (up)  tlian  do  we; 
that  her  social  ideal,  tho  far  above  the  present  real,  is  yet  far  too 
much  graduated  into  degiees  of  social  status,  (See  chap.  ix.  ; 
see  also  an  article  in  the  same  periodical  for  Feb.,  1S93,  on  "The 
Doom  of  the  Domestic  Cook.")  [We  believe  that  several  of 
tnese  trattori  have  already  been  instituted  (189!).] 


CUAPTER  V. 

BEING    A    DIGRESSION    UPON    CASTE-SYMPATHY. 

"  But  now  the  past  is  out  of  date, 
The  future  not  yet  born ; 
And  who  can  be  alone  elate, 
Whilst  the  world  lies  forlorn  ?  " 

Before  carrying  farther  our   investigations   into    these 

domestic  economies,  it  may  be  permitted  to  us  to  break 

off  tlie  direct  argument  and  digress  for  a  few  minutes 

into  an  enquiry  that  is  pointedly  suggested  by  sundry 

reflections  in  the  last  chapter.     We  have  had  occasion  to 

point  out  how,  under  our  present  domestic  system,  there 

is  allotted  to  young  girls  of  the  housemaid-class  a  sphere 

of  duties  involving  very  rough,  or  even  thoroly  repulsive, 

work ;  and  yet  the  ordinary  householder  is  conscious  of 

no  imputation  upon  his  chivalry  in  that  he  allots  such 

work  to  girls  ;    for  the  tone  of    his  mind  is  dominated 

by  caste-sympathy.      The   ordinary  Briton  would  never 

dream  of  relieving  a   serving-maid  who  was  struggling 

along   with   a   heavy  scuttle   of  coals,   altho   he  would 

probably  despise  himself  if  he  allowed  his  sister  (or  still 

more  a  friend's  sister)  to  carry  a  far  lighter  load  for  a 

verj'  short  distance.    So,  too,  without  any  compunction,  he 

60 


Caste-  Sympathy.  6 1 

condemns  young  girls  to  blacklead  the  grates  and  wash  the 
hearthstone  and  doorsteps  at  terrible  cost  to  their  hands  ; 
but  what  would  he  say  of  the  youngster  who  should  lie 
snugly  in  bed  while  his  own  sister  was  washing  a  doorstep 
on  a  bitter  morning  1  He  would  probably  say  that  flogging 
were  too  gentle  a  treatment  for  such  a  mean-spirited  cur. 
Yet  pray  is  not  our  housemaid  also  somebody's  sister  1 
Again  our  French  neighbours  excel  in  politeness  and 
courtesy ;  yet  anyone  who  has  travelled  in  France  will 
have  noticed  that,  if  he  arrive  at  or  leave  an  inn  where 
there  happens  to  be  no  Boots  present,  his  heavy  port- 
manteau will  be  tackled  and  carried  up  (or  down)  stairs 
by  a  chamber-maid  ;  a  preceding  which  an  Englishman 
is  apt  to  resent,  preferring  to  function  as  luggage-porter 
himself  rather  than  let  a  weak  woman  do  the  work  for  him 
— for  he  is  not  accustoyned  to  see  women  hauling  portm,an- 
teaus  about;  but  he  will  find  his  polite  and  courteous 
French  co-traveller  handing  over  his  heavy  portmanteau 
as  a  matter  of  course  to  the  maid, — for  he  is  as  accustomed 
to  see  her  so  employed  as  we  are  to  see  our  housemaids 
carrying  heavy  coal-scuttles ;  and  in  neither  case  does  the 
accustomed  strike  us  as  wrong — for  custom  has  blunted 
the  edge  of  our  sympathies. 

Again,  you  are  out,  and  you  pass  your  housemaid,  your 
cook,  or  your  children's  nurse ;  do  you  doff  your  hat  or 
salute  her?  "Of  course  not" — comes  the  indignant  reply 
— "  what  an  absurd  question  ;  as  if  one  would  bow  to  a 
servant !  "  Well,  you  meet  your  baker's  wife,  or  your 
greengrocer's  wife  ;  she,  at  least,  is  not  a  servant ;  do  you 
salute  her?  "  Certainly  not,"  is  the  angry  retort.  No, 
precisely  ;    you   stare   straight    befure    you,    and   utterly 


62  Caste- Sytnpathy. 

ignore  her  ;  or,  perhaps,  even  into  her  face  with  a  stony 
nescient  disregard.  Well,  we  know  wliat  you  would  say 
if  your  son  passed  his  own  sister,  or  mother,  or  friend's 
sister,  without  saluting  her;  but  it  would  be  interesting 
to  learn  your  opinion  of  the  butcher,  baker,  candlestick- 
maker,  artisan,  or  farm-labourer,  who  should  not  hit  his 
hat  when  he  met  his  own  wife  or  sister. 

Well,  let  us  precede.  You  are  in  a  London  street,  or 
a  country  lane,  and  you  meet  a  poor  old  woman,  decrepid, 
withered,  tottering,  soiled,  staggering  along  thro  the 
mud,  or  against  a  bitter,  biting,  wind,  or  in  the  blazing 
sunshine,  with  a  heavy — oh  for  her  how  heavy  ! — sack 
of  hard-gleaned  fii-e-wood,  or  of  some  frowzy  refuse 
painfully  and  wearisomely  collected  from  a  score  of 
refuse-heaps — the  ofl'ul  of  a  great  city.  See  !  she  is 
toiling  wearily  along,  footsore,  heavy-burdened,  her 
grey  hair  dishonored  and  besmeared  by  the  refuse  she 
has  collected:  what  a  sight;  what  an  occupation  for 
threescore-and-ten  years!  Yet  will  you  ease  her?  willy(ju 
carry  her  sack  1  will  you  even  help  her  to  i-aise  it  1  Ko  ! 
Well  perhaps  you  are — like  ourself — a  moral  coward,  and 
cannot  command  sufficient  courage  so  to  assist  a  pariali 
in  the  sight  of  even  a  countryside — far  less  of  a  great 
city  ! — Well,  see  here  ;  there  is  still  an  opportunity  to 
help  her;  yonder  is  a  strong  boy  idling;  for  a  copper 
or  two  he  will  carry  thai  old  woman's  sack ;  have  you 
twopenny  worth  of  svmpathy'J  No?  Well  at  least  have 
you  the  grace  to  feel  dissatisfied  with  yourself :  has 
a  shadow  come  between  you  and  the  sun  as — holiday- 
making — you  pass  along  that  fair  countryside,  and 
cluuded  your  liglitheartedness  for  a  time ;  or  m  the  city 


Caste- Sympathy.  63 

has  the  encounter  rather  spoilt  the  satisfuctiou  with 
which  you  liave  been  reflecting  on  your  banker's  boolv  % 
Do  you  not  at  least  feel  pained  and  distressed  that 
poor  old  women  can  be  found  in  such  a  strait '?  But 
stay. — We  will  not  wait  your  answer — tho  we  see  it  in 
your  unclouded  face  :  We  will  first  put  you  yet  another 
question.  We  are  in  the  open  country,  in  France,  in 
Italy,  in  Switzerland,  or  if  you  like,  perhaps  in  Wales, 
or  Scotland,  or  even  in  an  English  market-garden. 
There  what  do  you  see]  a  number  of  young  women 
working  hard  in  the  fields,  weeding,  mowing,  reaping,  or 
whatnot.  Approach  a  little  nearer;  take  a  good  look 
at  them  ;  many  are,  or  were,  handsome  ;  there  are  dark 
brunettes,  and  soft  blundes  with  rounded  faces;  but  the 
sun  and  the  wind  and  exposure  generally  have  worked 
havoc  in  their  beauty ;  and  their  faces  bewray  less  the 
soft  womanliness  than  the  seasoned  manliness  of  ex- 
pressiou  :  and  then  their  hands — how  rough — how 
coarse — how  thoroly  and  permanently  ingrained  and 
stained  !  But — but  you  see  all  this  as  plainly  as  we 
do,  yet  you  ate  not  moved  :  there  is  no  sadness  in  your 
face,  and  you  seem  quite  satisfied. 

Well,  we  will  ask  you  one  more  question.  Life  has 
nncertainties  which  may  wreck  even  the  greatest 
prudence  and  forethonght.  You  have  a  mother ;  she 
is  not  yet  extremely  aged,  but  she  is  in  years  3  three 
score  perhaps]  Yes?  We  thought  so.  You  are 
tenderly  and  reverently  attached  to  her  :  you  are  right. 
More  :  you  have  sisters — fine,  noble,  tall,  white-handed, 
gently-nurtured,  English  ladies  :  and  you  have  a  wife 
like  unto   them.     iS'ow  what  if  some    terrible    calamity 


64  Caste-Synipatliy. 

reducer!  you  all  to  beggary?  What  if  your  aged  mother 
whom  you  reverence  so  lovingly,  were  compelled  lor 
very  subsistence  to  scour  the  country-side  for  fuel  or 
to  rake  the  city-offal-heaps  in  seai'ch  of  the  unrefused 
refuse,  for  which  a  few  pence  might  somehow  be  ob- 
tained :  what  if  you  saw  her  staggering  along  under  this 
frowzy  load,  her  grey  hair  dishonored  and  soiled  by  the 
refuse — and  she  is  only  threescore  years  of  age  you  said. 
What  if  your  sisters  and  wife  must  needs  spend  the 
day  labouring  in  the  field,  and  those  fair  white  hands, 
which  you  are  wont  to  gallantly  kiss,  were  begrimed, 
and  soiled,  and  made  coarse,  by  the  heavy  work,  and 
the  soft  beauty  of  their  faces  hardened  and  streaked  by 
the  inclement  weather  %  But  there  is  no  need  for  you 
to  answer  :  one  can  see  your  answer  in  your  face  and 
in  your  whole  frame  :  your  face  is  suflused  and  burning, 
and  your  eyes  are  quivering  with  tears  that  you  cannot 
stem  back,  and  your  lips  are  tighrly  drawn,  and  your 
hands  clenched,  and  every  muscle  and  feature  proclaim 
that  the  few  words,  and  the  barely  outlined  verbal 
picture,  have  stirred  your  heart  to  its  lowest  depths  ; 
and  all  your  energy  of  deep  love  and  tenderness  is 
throbbing  in  a  passionate  revolt  against  this  conjectured 
suffering  of  your  dear  ones.  Yet  it  is  oyxly  conjectural — 
very  conjectural — and  vanishingly  improbable  :  whilst 
the  other  pictures  were  true  and  real  to  the  life :  there 
was  no  conjectured  misery  but  sordid  crying  poverty  ; 
yet  you  were  moved  not.  The  poor  old  woman  of  seventy 
staggering  under  her  filthy  burden  stirred  not  even 
a  feeling  of  sorrow  or  remorse  in  your  heart :  and  the 
women  working  in  the  fields  were  viewed  with  utmost 


Caste-  Sympathy.  6  5 

indifference.  TTAy  is  your  sympathy  so  caste-hound  :  is 
not  she  too  somebody  s  mother :  are  there  not  men  u'ho 
lovingly  call  them  also  wives  and  sisters  ?  Alas  :  so 
narrowed  is  sympathy  by  caste  that  a  sights  which 
should  suffice  to  poison  all  the  pleasure  of  your  day's 
holiday,  fails  utterly  to  move  you.-^  Yet  we  are  all 
alike  flesh  and  blood,  and  the  same  passions,  joys,  and 
soiTows,  are  common  to  us  as  one  mankind. 

Now  by  a  train  of  reflections  of  this  character  one  may, 
we  tliink,  be  enabled  more  truly  and  more  sympathetically 
to  appreciate  the  emotional  standpoint  of  those  who  rank 
above  us — and  not  to  fall  into  the  error  of  harshly  judg- 
ing their  moral  character,  when  we  reflect  how  the  poor 
might  with  equal  justice  ra,te  us  as  feelingless  and  purely 
seltish — with  equal  justice,  that  is  to  say,  with  equally 
ample  injustice.  We  mean  in  this  way  for  instance.  An 
average  middle-class  Englishman  of  this  day,  when  he 
reads  or  hears  of  (especially  bygone)  princes,  and  power- 
ful peers,  and  notes  the  haughty  expression  of  face  and 
manner,  and  the  general  antipathetic  attitude  of  mind  that 
they  seem  to  imply,  is  apt  (especially  if  a  good  radical)  to 
hate  and  despise  them  cordially,  and  to  insist  that  in 
such  men  and  women  all  human  feelings  pf  love,  gentle- 
ness, and  sympathy,  are  choked  and  killed  by  the  caste- 

1  A  few  ho\irs  after  writing  out  the  bulk  of  the  above,  we 
found — in  re-reading  Green's  Short  Hi-ttory  of  the  English  People 
— a  passage  that  seems  exactly  to  illustrate  these  remarks. 
"  Cliivalry  exerted  on  him  (Edward  I.)  a  yet  more  fatal  influence 
in  its  narrowing  of  his  sympathy  to  the  noble  class,  and  in  its 
exclusion  of  the  peasant  and  tlie  craftsman  from  all  claims  to 
pity.  '  Knight  without  reproach  '  as  he  was,  he  looked  calmly 
on  at  the  massacre  of  the  burghers  of  Berwick,  and  saw  in 
William  Wallace  nothing  but  a  common  robber." 


66  Caste- Sympathy. 

born  spirit  of  haughtiness  and  disdain  ;  and  tli;\t  to  no 
one  could  they  possibly  be  lovable  and  tender,  or  display 
a  *'  purple-veined  humanity."  We  are  sure  that  any  one 
— any  thinking  one  we  mean — who  has  luid  the  opp(;r- 
tunity  of,  to  some  extent,  observing  (from  his  own  middle- 
class  sphere)  this  class  of  whom  we  speak,  whether 
personally,  or  in  the  pages  of  fiction,  or  in  the  journalism 
— especially  the  humorous  journalism — of  the  day,  but 
mainly  in  the  pages  of  history,  must  have  been. seized  by 
this  feeling  of  recoiling  from,  and  repugnance  towards,  a 
race  so  haughty  and  humanity-frozen,  and  must  have 
found  himself  deeming  it  well-nigh  incredible  that  even 
among  themselves  they  could  ever  love  with  a  hot  pas- 
sionate love,  or  be  moved  by  keen  human  sympathy. 
And  yet  the  foregoing  discussion  should — we  think — 
make  one  very  chary  of  adopting  such  a  view  :  we  think 
that  we  have  learned  that  men  and  women  miiy  be  keenly 
sympatlietic,  passionately  emotional,  tender  and  amiable, 
among  those  of  their  own  caste,  and  yet  callous  (if  only 
thro  custom  and  vnimaginative  want  of  thought)  to  the 
sorrows  and  sufferings  of  a  lower  caste.  The  result  of 
this  enquiry  is  to  tolerably  satisfy  us  that  sympathy  may 
be  keen  and  perfect  within  the  caste  and  yet  almost  un- 
developed out  of  it.  If  this  reading  be  correct,  the 
lesson  is  not  without  its  value,  both  theoretically  and 
practically;  and  especially  at  a  time  when  the  transition 
from  the  old  caste-and-privilege-traditions  to  a  wide 
democratism  is  going  on  so  rapidly.  To  estimate  justly 
and  correctly  the  worth  of  all  his  fellows  must  be 
the  desire  of  every  philosophic  student :  and  to  abstain 
from  unjust  and  uncharitable  depreciation,  that  can  only 


Cas  te-  Sympathy.  67 

embitter  and  lengthen  needlessly  the  already  existing 
class-feuds,  should  be  the  earnest  endeavor  of  every  re- 
former. As  to  the  justification  for  cliarges  made  by  the 
masses  we  say  no  more :  but  surely  no  middle-class  radical 
among  us  has  a  right  to  rail  against  the  privileged  classes 
as  being  destitute  of  sympathy  and  natural  affections,  till 
he  have  measured  them  by  the  standard  that  might  be 
applied  to  measure  his  own  I'elations  to  the  poorest. 

Let  us  pause  yet  another  moment  before  quitting  these 
phenomena  of  caste-sympathy  and  study  them  in  yet  an- 
other aspect.  We  will  not  delay  here  to  point  out  how 
intimately  bound  up  is  such  a  restricted  sympathy  with 
the  moral  evolution  of  all  the  lower  races — who  acknow- 
ledge the  obligations  of  right  and  wrong  within  only  a 
narrow  sphere,  and  confine  their  sympathies  to  their  own 
clan  or  tribe  or  nation  ^ — but  we  will  point  out  the 
excedingly  marked  development  of  this  spirit  in  a  mighty 
people. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  illustration,  that  can  be 
found  anywhere,  of  what  may  result  from  the  workings 
of  a  thoro  and  unequivocal  caste-sympathy — how  beautiful, 
noble,  and  lovable,  the  caste  may  be  ivhen  viewed  from 
within ;  how  hateful,  arrogant  and  cruel  when  viewed 
from  without — is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  Greek  life. 
We  have  most  of  us  caught  some  glimpses  of  that  so- 
beautiful  Greece,  glowing  in  the  radiance  of  sunshine — 
both  sky-shine  and  soul-shine — and  exultant  in  tlie  jov- 
ousness  of  life  when  this  world  was  young  ;  and  many  a 
one  must  often  have  yearned  for  the  power  to  rull  back 

1  Cf.  the  author's  Cri/  of  the  Children  —o]icmng  statoiututs. 


68  Caste- SympatJiy. 

the  centuries  and  exchange  this  fevered  civilization  of  to- 
day for  the  beauty  and  freshness  and  glow  of  that  young 
life.  But  it  must  never  be  forgotten,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  this  joyous  Greek  life  "  i-ested  upon  the  dark  back- 
ground of  slavery  " — that  the  noble  life,  which  we  picture 
to  ourselves,  was  possible,  and  xoas  expressly  intended  to  he 
possible,  only  for  Greeks  of  the  Greeks. 
I  Compared  with  the  warm  and  joyous  humanity  that 
the  Greek  castes  displayed  inter  se,  and  with  the  fervent 
democratism  that  prevailed  in,  e.g.,  Athens,  nothing  can 
be  more  striking  than  their  absolute  exclusion  of  "  barbar- 
ians " — i.e.,  foreigners — and  slaves  from  the  pale  of  their 
sympathies.  We  have  several  "  Utopias  "  bequeathed  to 
us  by  Greek  literature  ;  and  the  modern  reader — more  or 
less  purified  from  at  least  this  excessive  caste-sympathy 
— experiences  a  rude  shock  of  surprise  and  disgust  at 
finding  that  these  "  Utopias,"  when  depicting  an  ideally 
perfect  social  state,  dctined  that  perfection  as  consisting 
in  the  perfection  of  a  mere  handful  of  Greek  citizens, 
whilst  all  the  rest  of  Greece,  and  of  the  world,  received, 
perhaps,  rather  more  cavalier  treatment  than  would  pigs 
and  oxen  in  a  modern  "  Utopia."  To  contemplate — as 
we  practically  can — this  remarkable  type  of  mind — both 
from  insi#,  and  from  outside^  the  narrow  circle — to  ex- 
perience alternately  a  yearning  love  for  this  tender 
human  Greek  life  of  beauty,  and  a  loathing  from  that 
hateful  inhumanity  in  its  crass  selfishness  of  caste,  is  a 
most  valuable  social  and  moral  discipline.  Such  study 
should  preach  a  weighty  lesson  on  the  hatefulness  of 
caste — to  those  who  even  now  live  a  caste-life ;  and  on 
the  lovableness  and  warm  sympathies  of  caste-members 


Caste-SyuipatJiy.  69 

inter  se — to  those  who,  standing  without  the  pale,  natur- 
ally deem  caste  and  sympathy  to  be  incompatible,  and 
the  members  of  a  caste  iutriusically  hateful,  inhuman, 
and  loveless.^ 

'  To  iHustrate  and  justify  these  remarks  we  subjoin  two 
or  three  quotations  from  Mahatfy's  Hi'itory  of  Clas-^iic  Gretk 
Literature.  "  But  with  all  this  stran  e  modernness  Plato  is  an 
Hellene  of  the  Hellenes.  His  prospect  does  not  include  any 
non-Hellenic  races.  .  .  .  He  shares  with  Isocrates  the  old,  I 
had  well-nigh  said  the  vulgar,  Greek  admiration  for  the  most 
retrograde  and  narrow  of  the  Hellenes — the  Spartans  ;  nay,  he 
is  .so  exclusive  and  aristocratic  in  spirit,  that  he  v:ill  hardly  con- 
descend to  consider  the  loiver  classes;  and  conceives,  like  every 
other  Greek  of  that  day,  even  his  ideal  society  to  be  a  select  body 
of  equah  amid  a  crowd  of  tniprivileged  inferiors  and  of  slaves. 
This  it  is  which  gives  to  Plato's  communism  a  character  so  radi- 
cally distinct  from  all  the  modern  dreams  known  by  the  same 
name,  or  from  the  early  Christian  societj'  described  in  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles,  It  was  essentially  an  aristocratic  communism, 
and  ivas  based,  not  iipon  the  equality  of  men,  but  upon  their  inher- 
ent and  radical  disparity.  It  was  really  the  Republic  of  the 
select  few,  exercising  a  strict  and  even  intolerable  despotism  over 
the  masses."  (V'ol.  ii.,  part  i.,  pp.  208-209.)  So  too  Isocrates' 
panacea  for  the  trouljle.s  of  his  day  was  "  an  invasion  of  Persia, 
— plundering  its  enormous  wealth  for  the  benefit  of  the  Greeks. 
.  .  .  He  held,  indeed,  that  Culture,  more  than  Race,  was  the 
distinctive  feature  of  real  Greeks  ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  would  not 
have  hesitated  to  place  tlie  most  ignorant  Spartan  far  above  the 
most  enlightened  Macedonian  or  Egyptian."  (Ibid. ,  part  ii. ,  p.  5. ) 
Again,  as  to  Aristotle's  Politics,  Mahaff'y  remarks  :  "  Wliat  we 
rather  wonder  at  is  the  narrow  HeUenedom  of  Aristotle,  who  has 
learned  nothing  from  contemporary  history,  notliing  from  his 
own  studies  in  foreign  politics,  nothing  from  his  varied  foreign 
residences,  nothing  from  the  Macedonian  Court.  .'  .  .  With 
Aristotle  Greeks  alone  are  worthy  to  be  free  and  dominant,  and 
all  foreigners  are  more  or  less  adapted  for  slavery."  .  .  .  [Ibid., 
p.  208.)  "His  reflections  on  slavery  .  .  .  [show]  that  there 
were  already  Abolitionists  in  the  world,  who  declared  that 
slavery  was  against  Nature — a  doctrine  which  Aristotle  earnestly 
combats,  tho  making  several  important  concessions  very  damag- 


7  o  Caste-  Sympathy. 

ins  10  his  caTi«e.''  (Vnd.,  p.  206.)  Finally,  we  may  qnoto  the 
followini^  teiiiaiU  with  reference  to  Aristotle's  Poetics:  -'The 
whole  question  must  he  reL^ardeil  in  relation  to  Aristotle's  theory 
of  intel/ectvcU  and  refined  leisure  an  the  chief  end  of  mam."  (Ihid., 
p.  199.)  Now  this  grand  (lesiileramlum  was  a  possibility  to  the 
Greeks— the  select  few— thanks  to  their  institution  of  slavery  ; 
tlie  problem  for  the  modern  Utopian  is  to  secure  the  maximum 
possible  of  such  iulelkctual  and  refined  leisure  for  each  and  all  — 
not  for  a  select  ferv  only.  We  shall  have  frequent  occasion  to 
n  for  to  this  implicit  criterion  in  subseciueut  pagts. 


CHArTEPv  VI. 

THE    SERVANT-QUESTION  AND    THE  TRUE  DE\fOCRATIC  SPIRIT  : 
INCLUDING  ADVICE  UPON  GARDENING. 

"  Duty — where  a  man  loves  what  he  commands  himself  to  do." 

—  Go  the. 

"To  venture  aii  opinion  is  like  moving  a  piece  at  chnss  ;  it  may 
be  taken,  but  it  foniis  the  beyinniiKj  of  a  game  that  is  won." — Ibid. 

Returning  now  to  the  subject  of  domestic  service,  it  has 
of  course  been  plain  to  trie  reader  that  we  have  all  along 
been  dealing  with  the  economy  of  an  English  middle-class 
household  possessing  two  or  three  or  so  servants ;  and 
that  we  have  steadily  ignoreil  the  problem  of  millionaire 
households.^  This  has  been  intentional  :  not  only  do 
the  middle-class  households  incomparably  ontiuimber  the 
others  ;  not  only  are  the  problems — in  many  respects — 
simplified  by  this  narrowing  ;  but,  as  has  already  been 
intimated,  we  may  hope  that  the  average  middle-class- 
competency  is  destined  to  one  day  supplant,  alike,  lower- 
class  poverty,  and  the  waste,  prodigality,  and  lu.xuriance, 
of  both  the  "  upper  10,000  "  and  the  commercial  million- 
aire ;  or  that,  at  least,  if  wealthy  capitalists  continue  to 
exist  (and  their  existence  is  in  some  resjoects  desirable) 
tliey  will  live  no  more  extravagantly  than  their  fellows. 

'  Ad  for  instance  we  have  said  nntliing  about  servants'  halls,  etc. 
71 


72  TJie  True  Dejnocratic  Spirit. 

It  is  clear  then  that,  taking  this  view,  there  was  small 
need  to  discuss  the  position  of  servants  who  are  mere 
superfluous  ornaments,  or  extravagant  excrescences,  and 
in  no  wise  uaefui.  One  can  hardly  go  into  the  question 
of  luxuries  and  extravagances  without  trenching  on  a 
division  of  this  subject  which  is  reserved  for  subsequent 
discussion ;  but  it  may  perhaps  be  admissible  here  to 
premise  that  the  progress  of  social  evolution  will  be 
marked  by  a  tendency  to  the  continual  approximation  of 
the  respective  wealth,  wages,  and  comfort,  of  the  various 
classes :  the  big  fortunes  will  become  rare,  and  the  low 
wages  equally  disappear.  It  is  assumed  that,  by  no  com- 
munistic plunder  but,  by  the  beneficent  working  of  those 
natural  processes  whose  laws  are  formulated  by  Political 
Economy,  there  will  be  a  tendency  to  an  approximately 
eipial  distribution  of  wealth,  and  that  this  will  be  heralded 
by  the  increase  in  price  of  labor  and  of  those  commo- 
dities whose  price  is  a  function  mainly  of  labor-price. 
Without  further  anticipating  here  the  details  of  this  dis- 
cussion it  will  be  tolerably  evident,  on  very  slight  reflec- 
tion, that  this  increase  of  expenses  will  result  in  the 
continuous  abolition  of  those  luxuries  that  are  in  no  true 
sense  conducive  to  our  happiness.  Any  readers  who  will 
follow  out  in  detail  the  process  of  reasoning  here  indi 
cated  will  probably  admit  our  assumption  that  unnecessary 
servants  will  disappear:  in  so  far  as  they  minister  merely  to 
pomp,  display,  and  extravagance,  they  are,  let  us  hope, 
doomed ;  and  anyhow  it  is  no  part  of  our  concern  to  show 
how  in  semi-Utopia  offices  will  be  filled  whose  existence 
Is  an  insult  to  Utopia  :  and  similarly  in  so  far  as,  altho 
workers  and  not  ornaments,  they  yet  can  be  employed 


TJie  True  Democratic  Spirit.  73 

by  none  but  millionaires,  they  may  fairly  be  considered 
outside  the  pale  of  our  sympathies. 

To  make  the  matter  quite  plain  we  may  indicate  ladies'- 
maids,  valets,  butlers,  housekeepers,  footmen  (the  very 
-flunkies  and  anathema  to  every  liberal-minded  man),  game- 
keepers, and  all  such  excrescences.^  We  cannot  under- 
stand how  any  man,  however  rich,  can  be  content  to 
lavish  his  wealth  on  a  parcel  of  useless  bipedal — or  other 
— luxuries,  when  all  round  him  misery  is  rampant  that  he 
might  relieve,  abuses  are  crying  out  to  Heaven  that  he 
might  extirpate,  and  the  beneficent  schemes  of  broken- 
hearted moneyless  reformers  are  languishing  for  want  of 
his  sqtiandered  gold.  In  the  name  of  all  commonsense 
what  reasonable  enjoyments  could  any  man  not  get  for 
£2-3000  per  year  ^  — and  what  infinite  good  might  not  our 
plutocrats  do  with  their  magnificent  fortunes !  Even 
putting  such  considerations  on  one  side  it  is  difficult  to 
realise  how  any  man,  who  has  at  all  been  touched  by  the 
bieath  of  democratism,  and  who  feels  the  brotherhood 
of  man  to  be  something  more  than  an  empty  catchword, 
who  has  studied  sociology  and  anticipates  the  distant 
Utopia — very  distant,  but  yet  not  so  unreal  but  that 
each  of  us  might  by  however  little  help  to  fashion  it  if 
we  would, — how  any  such  man  can  tolerate  the  feeling 

1  In  one  of  Leech's  sketclies  (noted  as  a  fact)  a  flunky,  just 
engaged,  says,  "Tliere's  just  one  question  I  should  like  to  ask 
youi-  ladyship.  Ham  I  engaged  for  work  ;  or  ham  I  engaged  for 
horn  anient  !  !  " 

-  Between  2-300  years  ago  Cowley  wrote  :  "When  you  have 
pared  away  all  the  vanity,  what  solid  and  natural  contentment 
does  there  remain  which  may  not  be  had  for  £500  a  year."      Of 
course  £500  then  represented  a  great  deal  more  than  now. 
6 


74  The  True  Democratic  Spirit. 

that  some  dozen  or  more  of  his  fellow-men  spend  their 
whole  lives  simply  in  ministering  to  his — not  needs  but — 
*'  pleasures  "  or  vanity.  Never  mind  anything  about  their 
wages,  however  good  ;  here  are  twelve  men  whose  service 
is  absolutely  devoted  to  one  other  man  ;  all  are  alike  flesh 
and  blood  ;  how  can  the  one  man  endure  such  a  reflection  : 
'twere  almost  insupportable  to  us  !  Indeed  so  strongly  was 
this  feeling  developed  in  our  own  case  that  we  used  to  be 
worried  by  the  thought  that  in  our  own  household  there 
lived  two  servants  whose  lives  were  devoted  solely  to 
subserving  the  comforts  of  two  other  human  beings :  and 
we  overcame  this  worry — and  that  not  completely — only 
by  the  reflection  that  there  was  a  sort  of  equitable  division 
of  labor  if  two  people,  with  the  means  of  living,  provided 
a  home  for  two  others,  without  any  means,  who  in  return 
discharged  for  their  employers  certain  household  services 
— which  by  the  way  the  latter  could  not  have  performed 
for  themselves.  In  fact  we  reconciled  domestic  service 
to  our  democratic  proclivities  only  by  regarding  the 
servants  as  a  constituent  tho  adopted  and  not  native  part 
of  our  household,  of  our  home,  where  naturally  by  a 
division  of  labor  each  performed  different  duties. 

Now,  disregarding  the  retort  that  might  be  made  by  a 
merely  verbal  logic, — that  what  is  true  of  our  two  ser- 
vants is  equally  true  of  milord's  twenty — it  appears  to 
us  that  altho  this  explanation  will  very  fairly  recon- 
cile a  democrat  for  the  present  to  the  employment  of  one 
or  two  servants  (something,  of  course,  depending  upon 
the  size  of  his  family),  such  reconcilement  becomes  in- 
creasingly difficult  with  the  addition  of  every  fresh 
servant.       Moreover    such    reconcilement    may    be    en- 


The  True  Democratic  Spirit.  75 

dangered,  not  only  by  the  gross  total  of  the  servants,  but 

also  by  the  respective  avocations  of  any  given  servants. 

The  employment  of  four  or  five   servants  in  one  large 

household  may  be  possibly  quite  compatible,  while   tlie 

addition    of  a  third  servant   to  another  may  be   highly 

incompatible,  with    this  understanding.     It   all  depends 

upon    what    work    the  servants  perform— whether   they 

minister  to  necessities,  or  merely  to  extravagances  and 

luxuries  :    and    moreover    a   servant    who    subserves    a 

luxury   daily   enjoyed    by   a    score    of   people    may    be 

approved  of,  while  the  same  servant,  subserving  one  man's 

individual  luxury,  will  prove  a   thorn  in   the  flesh  to  a 

consistent  democrat.       The    criterion    in    fact   must    be 

applied  with  discrimination. 

Perhaps  this  proposition  will  be  made  clearer  by  an 
example.     We  know  of  several  households  where  in  each 
case  the  family,  consisting  of  two  persons,   not  only   is 
ministered    to   by   two   domestic  servants,  but   further- 
more employs  a  gardener.     Now   here  is  one  man  who 
woiks    hard    (for    bad   pay)    purely  to    minister  to    the 
luxury  of  Urn  people.     We  are   not  in  any  sense  advo- 
cating communism  but  we  do  feel  that  there  is  in  this 
picture  something  that  would  greatly  worry  us ;  and  we 
cannot  but  think  that  such  phenomena  as 'this  will  have 
become  extinct  long  before  Utopia  is  even  sighted.     Were 
the  gardener  employed  on  the  grounds  of  a  school,  so  that 
his  labor  gave  pleasure  to  two  or  threescore  boys  or  girls, 
one  might  feel  very  well  satisfied— for  here  would  ''be  I 
division    of   labor   such    as  we    may  expect  will   obtain 
—in  semi-Utopia  anyhow  :  but  that  the  whole  lifework 
of   one    man    should    simply    subserve    the    luxdry    of 


"j^  The  True  Democratic  Spirit. 

two  other  people — this  dots  stick  in  our  throat  abun- 
dantly. 

"  Is  it  contended  then  that  as  Utopia  approaches 
gardens  will  cease  to  exist?"  No;  far  from  it :  what  is 
contended  for  is  simply  that  new  methods  of  gardening 
must  supervene,  and  gardening  by  proxy  become  rare. 
Gardening  may  be  a  pleasure  in  itself,  or  it  may  be 
simply  the  means  to  an  end — such  end  being  the  plea- 
sure derived  from  looking  at  a  fine  parterre.  To  an 
immense  number  the  garden- work  is  in  itself  a  pleasure,^ 

'  There  are  even — af?  we  know  from  personal  experience — some 
extraoi'dinarj'  individuals  so  constituted  that  they  find  pleasure 
in  mowing  a  lawn  !  If  such  mental  traits  should  persist,  of 
course  the  abolition  of  most  professional  gardeners  in  Utopia 
would  cause  lis  no  trouble  ;  if  not,  there  would  seem  no  remedy 
but  for  Utopians  to  do  without  lawns.  Perhaps,  however, 
children  might  be  turned  to  account,  since  they  usually  enjoy 
racing  about  witli  a  mowing-machine.  It  may  be  worth  while 
to  extend  this  discussion  somewhat  beyond  the  remarks  in  the 
text,  since  it  will  afford  a  very  good  example  of  how  very  much 
pleasure  may  still  be  retained  even  compatibly  with  the  sacrifice 
ot  such  appliances — human  or  otherwise — to  pleasure  as  rcHection 
may  assure  us  cannot  persist  into  Utopia.  The  pleasures  de- 
rived from  a  garden  are  fourfold  (putting  aside  the  pleasure  of 
gardening — where  it  exists) — 

(1)  The  kitchen-garden  ministers  to  our  material  comfort. 

(2)  The  flower-garden  is  a  beautiful  sight 

(3)  There  is  so  much  large  open  space  iu  which  to  wander — 
free  from  street-sights  and  street-noises. 

(4)  There  may  be  included  a  recreation-ground— as,  e.g.,  a 
tennis-lawn. 

Now  the  first  consideration  we  put  aside  altogether,  since,  on 
any  large  scale,  kitchen-gardens  are  probably  doomed — the 
requisite  produce  being  raised  very  far  more  cheaply,  better,  and 
less  wastefully,  in  large  market-gardens,  in  accordance  with  the 
general  principle  of  the  division  of  labor  ;  while,  if  anyone  like 
to  amuse  himself  by  a  little  kitcliengardcning  on  a  small  scale, 
clearly  that  is  a  case  for  individual,  or  family,  attention. 


The  True  Democratic  Spirit.  yy 

and  to  this  extent  therefor  proxy-gardening  were 
evidently  absurd  :  for  the  rest — the  question  will  finally 
remain  whether  the  loss  of  a  garden,  or  the  loss  of  time, 
and  the  trouble  involved,  in  doing  the  necessary  but  dis- 
tasteful garden-work,  be  the  greater  evil.  It  appears  to 
us  however  that,  in  and  near  cities,  the  small  private 
gardens  will  be  to  a  very  great  extent  superseded  by  a 
central  park  and  recreation  ground  common  to  all  the 
houses  built  round  it.  This  appears  to  meet  our  require- 
ments very  fully  :  for  such  a  park,  when  once  wisely  laid 

The  tliu-d  want  is  sufficiently  met  by  the  scheme  of  central 
quasi-paiks  alluded  to  in  the  text,  where,  by  co-operation,  each 
may  obtain  the  pleasure  of  a,  large  park,  whilst  incurring  the 
cost  only  of  a  garden. 

The  fourth  want  may  almost  be  bracketed  with  the  last,  so 
that  we  are  reduced  to  the  second  want  only  ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
Utopians  have  to  solve  the  problem  of  how  to  keep  a  small 
flower-garden  (and  lawn  perhaps  ?)  without  employing  a  gardener  ; 
or,  in  other  words,  is  the  pleasure  of  sucli  a  garden  in  excess  of 
the  trouble  required  by  it?  Remembering  the  existence  of  the 
central  park  many  people  will  vote  for  no  private  garden  at  all ; 
but  for  the  benefit  of  tliose  who  still  want  their  own  flower-garden 
we  may  point  out  liow  very  greatly  the  problem  is  now  simplified 
by  this  reduction. 

To  begin  witli,  the  first  laying  out  of,  planning,  and  planting, 
a  garden,  cutting  walks,  piling  rockery,  and  so  on — in  a  word 
the  creative  work  of  "landscape-gardening  " — is  pure  pleasure,  be- 
sides being  remarkably  healthy  work.  Even  tfurself — who  never 
do  a  stroke  of  gardening — can  tlioroly  enjoy  thiii  department  of 
work  ;  for  here  there  is  the  keen  pleasure  of  creating.  The  real 
monotony  and  trouble  commence  when  the  garden  is  made,  and 
requires  keeping  up,  weeding,  sweeping,  raking,  and  the  rest  of 
it.  But  even  here  the  majority  of  English  gardeners— thanks 
simply  to  their  own  folly,  pigheadedness,  and  want  of  taste- 
vastly  increase  their  labors.  A  rational  man  would  begin  by 
filling  up  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  his  garden  with  evergreens, 
and  flowering  bushes  and  shrubs,  which  persist,  make  au  ad- 
mirable   show,    require   almost   no    attention,    and    clioke    any 


78  The  True  Democratic  Spirit. 

out,  could  be  kept  up  at  a  vanishingly  small  expenditure 
of  labor  ;  while — since  a  verj  few  gardeners  would  thus 
minister  to  the  pleasure  of  scores  of  people — there  would 
be  a  very  fair  division  of  labor,  and  their  employment 
need  not  upset  the  feelings  of  the  wildest  democrat. 
Tt  stands  to  reason  that  with  the  su[)ersession  of  so  many 
(in  large  part  incompetent)  gardeners,  the  wages  of  the 
remainder  could  be  very  much  increased — apart  from  the 
influence  exerted  by  other  sociological  factors  :  which 
only  shows  once  more  huw  all  the  parts  of  the  social  ma- 
neighboring  weeds.  The  border-space  tliat  remains  he  would 
tlien  fill  lip  witii  hardy  perennials  tliat  look  after  themselves, 
and  are  dangerous  ri%-als  to  the  weeds  ;  so  that,  having  once 
planted  his  garden,  liis  gardening  labor  is  reduced  to  a  very 
small  minimum — consisting  in  little  more  than  occasional  sweep- 
ing, clipping,  and  weed-slaughtering.  Above  all  he  would  avoid 
— as  it  were  poison — that  atrocious  system  of  heddlng-out  and 
geometrical  gardening,  invented  in  an  evil  liour  by  some  execrable 
I'ooi  who  thus  achieved  a  trinity  of  evils,  in  that  he  utterly 
wrecked  all  the  grace,  poetry,  and  natural  beauty,  of  an  old 
English  garden,  created  a  panorama  of  hideousness,  and  intro- 
duced the  practice  of  annually  wasting  an  enormous  amount 
oi  human  labor  in  order  to  successfully  present  a  hideous  glare 
of  all  incongruous  colors  and  stiff  forms  during  four  months  of 
the  year. 

But  in  such  a  system  of  gardening,  as  is  sketched  above,  it 
will  be  seen  that  lialf  an  acre  or  more  of  ground  may  be  kept 
Jul!  of  blossom  and  perfume  at  the  cost  of  almost  no  labor  ;  and 
if  a  man  have  his  own  private  half-acre  full  of  ahnonds,  lilacs, 
viburnums,  rhododendions,  azaleas,  roses,  lilies,  campanulas,  and 
other  border-flowers,  and  evergreens,- — besides  having  the  run  of 
a  large  central  park— what  more  can  he  want? 

Of  gremhouses  wc  have  said  nothing  hitherto.  To  a  large  ex- 
tent greenhouses  exist  simply  in  order  to  winter  the  hideous 
aitificialities  destined  for  hcddimj-out — another  example  of  the 
enormous  expense  to  which  men  will  go  in  order  to  uglify  their 
possessions,  anil  defraud  themselves  of  beauty  and  perfume,  in  de- 
iereace  to  an  insane  and  wicked  fashion.     For  the  rest,  if  people 


TJie  True  Democratic  Spirit.  79 

ohine  work  together,  and  how  any  one  advance  implies, 
and  is  implied  by,  other  and  corelative  advances.  It 
may  farthermore  afford  some  satisfaction  to  some  of  us  to 
note  that,  when  garden-space  is  acquired  mainly  .by  a 
common  park  and  but  slightly  by  private  gardens  (the 
existence  of  which  in  a  small  degree  however  would  pre- 
serve for  us  that  privacy  so  dear — and  rightly  so  dear — 
to  Englishmen)  there  will  be  nothing  to  provoke  that 
unpleasant  consciousness  of  quasi-selfishness  that  worries 
a  social  reformer  when  he  reflects  that  several  acres  of 

can  find  appreciable  pleasure  in  a  greenhouse,  they  may  very 
well  be  left  to  attend  on  it  themselves  in  leisure  moments  :  but 
private  hothouses  on  the  large  scale  as  a  mere  appanage  of  pomp, 
and  ministrant  to  plutocratic  luxury,  we  consider  of  coui'se  irre- 
trievably doomed.  One  thing  however  must  be  carefully  remem- 
bered by  those  who  cannot  imagine  themselves  happy,  even  in 
Utopia,  without  a  garden,  and  yet  cannot  face  the  thought  of  ex- 
[ending  even  this  minimum  of  labor  and  time  on  it.  They  need 
to  be  reminded  that — practically — life  will  be  far  longer  in 
Utopia  than  here.  We  mean  that  the  available  leisure  of  each 
one  will  he  far  greater  than  now.  The  bread-winner  will  work 
but  a  very  few  hours  daily  ;  so  that,  even  after  adding  to  this 
W(jrk  the  work  which  he  now  delegates  to  others,  he  will  have  a 
large  balance  to  the  good.  It  is  highly  important  to  remember 
this  factor  in  any  hedonistic  estimate. 

We  have  followed  out  into  this  so  much  detail  what  may  ap- 
pear  a  very  trivial  subject,  because  it  appears  to  us  an  excedingly 
valuable  type-illuntration  for  Utopian  speculators.  The  conclusions 
just  reached  only  emphasise  once  more  the  truth  of  Spencer'a 
doctrine  that  ideal  arrangements  and  ideal  men  are  possible  only 
in  ideal  environments  :  and  that  Utopia  can  be  reached  only  by 
a  proportionable  metamorphosis  of  the  ivhole  social  system.  For 
in  our  gardening-example  we  find,  in  last  resort,  tliat  tlie  plea- 
sure, which  an  Utopian  regard  for  others'  happiness  indicates 
can  only  be  acquired  by  one's  own  labor,  is  yet  possible,  and 
with  a  balance  to  our  credit,  if  we  have  so  much  extra  leisure  as 
is  possible  for  all  only  in  Utopia.  Utopia  is  always  consistent 
with  Utopianism. 


8o  TJie  True  Democratic  Spirit. 

fine  garden,  with  masses  of  blossom  and  glorious  trees, 
are  dedicated  to  the  exclusive  use  of  perhaps  himself  aud 
one  or  two  children  ;  while  scores  of  his  surrounding 
neighbors  are  cooped  up  in  narrow  cages,  pining  and 
yearning  for  the  couutry-sights-in-town  that  his  garden 
would  afford  them :  so  that  at  present  two  or  three 
people  enjoy  it — sometimes  for  only  two  or  three  hours 
a  week  ;  and  at  all  times  this  immense  potential  pleasure 
is  to  uineteen-twentieths  of  its  extent  unused.  And 
looking  at  it  as  statesmen,  here  is  in  any  large  town  only 
so  much  ground,  covered  by  so  many  thousand  people  : 
a.ad  of  this  ground  only  so  many  scores  of  acres  are 
gardens  —  the  rest  being  pavingstones,  bricks,  and 
mortar.  But  this  limited  extent  of  garden-ground, 
which  might  afford  uiiflajging  enjoyment  to  certainly 
very  many  hundreds,  if  not  to  several  thousands,  is  the 
exclusive  pleasure-monopoly  of  a  very  very  few  dozen — or 
perhaps  even  units.  Now  whenever  this  reflection  comes 
home  to  a  large-garden-owuer  of  genuine  democratic^ 
feeling — this  animal  being  however,  most  unliappily,  an 
extraordinarily  rare  hybrid,  but  one  nevertheless  likely  to 
become  comparatively  common  in  the  distant  by-and-bye 
— it  will  worry  him  to  such  an  extent  that  the  very  sight 
of  his  garden  will  altogether  upset  his  peace  of  mind  for 
the  rest  of  that  day.  How  much  happier  will  his  repre- 
sentative and  descendant  be  in  the  future  days  of  small- 
gardened-houses  built  round  a  common  park  1 

1  We  use  democrat  in  its  best  sense  as  imply  ng  one  to  whom 
all  manhood  is  dear — wlio  feels  as  a  living  reality  the  brut herhood 
of  man  :  ]>hUiinthro/>ist  would  exactly  meet  our  requireiueuts  but 
the  word  has  become  too  specialised. 


The  True  Democratic  Spirit.  8 1 

We  are  afraid  that  these  remarks  will  seem  but  arrant 
commimism  to  many  ;  but  we  cannot  help  it,  and  must 
accept  the  risk.  So  far  are  we  from  any  communistic 
intentions  however,  that,  in  thus  speculating,  we  not 
only  do  not  contemplate  the  "appropriation"  (anglice, 
robhery — if  the  communists,  who  do  not  thiuk  it  robbery, 
will  pardon  us)  of  these  large  private  gardens  for  more 
general  use,  but  we  do  not  even  look  to  the  municipal 
buying  up  of  open  spaces  as  the  machinery  for  securing 
"central  parks  "•'■  ;  on  the  contrary  we  look  merely  to 
the  action  of  private  unselfish  impulse  and  private  enter- 
prise. Once  succede  in  infecting  people  with  this  feeling, 
and  all  will  come  easy  :  those  fortunate  possessors  of 
large  gardens  will  give  their  friends  and  neighbors  the 
run  of  them  :  while  public  opinion  will  demand  the  new 
style  of  house  planning  which  is  here  indicated.^ 

Well  this  question  of  the  employment  of  gardeners  has 
led  us  into  a  long  digression,  which  is  however  very  use- 
ful, as  clearing  up  a  typical  case  :  to  return — thei'e  is 
still  remaining  one  class  of  servants  somewhat  difficult  to 
deal  with — the  class  namely  of  grooms  and  coachmen,  of 
whom  the  1881  Census  records  over  73,000  in  England 
and  Wales  alone :  73,000  domestic  grooms  and  coach- 
men or  over  1  per  cent,  of  the  total  male  2^o2)ulatioii  of 

'  Our  central  parks  being— it  must  be  observed — private,  and 
limited  to  a  certain  group  of  residents. 

^  The  misfortune  is  that,  as  regards  houses,  we  are  the  very 
slaves  of  the  builders,  who  build  insane  houses  which  we  must 
occupy — for  there  are  no  better.  Now  nobody  with  eyes  will 
question  the  evident  truth  that  builders  are — speaking  generally 
— the  most  dolorously  UTiinventive,  unprogressive,  and  unmiti- 
gated, fools  :  the  first  reform  therefor  must  be  to  abolish  the 
present  builders-class. 


82  The  True  Democratic  Spirit. 

the  country  above  20  years  of  age  !  We  have  conchided 
that  those  miserable  abortions  footmen — mere  useless 
lazy  lumber — will  inevitably  disappear;  and  it  is  not 
diflBcult  to  foresee  that  coachmen,  as  such,  coachmen 
pure  and  simple,  will  follow  them  :  men  will  prefer  to 
drive  themselves  rather  than  to  incur  the  unnecessary 
expense  of  a  beliveried,  befurred,  bebigbuttoned,  live 
figurehead,  who  is  required,  not  for  use,  but  to  meet  the 
ridiculous  demands  of  an  extravagant  fashion.  But  there 
is  some  difficulty  in  deciding  whether  grooms  will  disap- 
pear in  semi-Utopia  and  Utopia — the  difficulty  being 
greatly  due  to  the  fact  that  their  work  is  so  distinctly 
unpleasant :  since,  however,  horses  in  abundance  will 
evidently  be  as  necessary  as  now,  we  are  inclined  to 
think  that,  to  a  very  great  extent,  private  possession  of 
horses  will  be  superseded  by  the  hiring  of  horses,  when 
required,  from  a  large  public  establishment — this  being  a 
far  less  extravagant  procedure — and  that  those  people 
who  are  so  fond  of  horses  as  to  require  the  constant  use 
of  one  will  do  the  grooming  themselves.^ 

To  hark  back  now  to  domestic  servants  more  particu- 
larly, we  have  shown  how,  by  the  abolition  of  needless 
and  nasty  work,  the  servants'  position  may  be  rendei-ed 
one  that  there  should  be  not  the  least  difficulty  in  filling. 
But  there  is  yet  another  aspect  of  this  great  "servant- 
question  "  that  it  is  important  not  to  neglect :  we  have 
to  face  the  possibility  of  two  contingencies,  either  of 
which   would  compel   us   to  ask   the  question — Can  we 

'  It  must  again  be  noted  that,  their  leisure-time  being  so  much 
greater  than  ours,  there  is  really  no  such  aggression  on  their  hap- 
piness as  might  be  at  first  supposed. 


The  True  Democratic  Spirit.  83 

entirely  dispense  with  servants,  and  yet  live  happily  % 
We  have  shown  reasons  for  thinking  that  the  existence 
of  servants  is  consonant  with  even  se?/i^-Utopia  anyhow  ; 
whether  or  no  Utopia  demand  their  abolition,  and 
negative  their  continuance  with  however  great  modifica- 
tions, is  a  question  that  will  come  up  for  consideration 
very  shortly.  But,  however  consonant  with  semi-Utopia 
may  be  domestic  service,  it  does  not  certainly  follow  that 
we  should  be  able  to  obtain  servants — for  other  causes 
now  unforeseen  might  militate  against  this  by  drawing 
off  our  possible  servants  to  still  more  pleasant  occupations 
— or  that  we  should  think  the  game  (of  having  them) 
worth  the  candle  (of  paying  for  them).  The  question 
thus  arises  whether  we  can  imagine  ourselves  happy 
without  servants,  and  we  think  it  is  very  easy  to  under- 
stand that  many  families  may  find  it  far  more  pleasant 
to  dispense  with  servants  altogether.  It  is  obvious  that 
the  very  same  reforms  which  will  make  it  possible  for — 
well — young  ladies  to  take  service  as  cooks  or  house- 
maids, will  render  it  equally  easy  for  the  ladies  of  the 
house  to  do  this  work  themselves ;  the  same  occupation 
being  far  more  beneficial  and  healthy  to  them,  both 
physically  and  morally,  than  their  present  frivolous 
"  pass-times  "  of  reading  trashy  novels  of  of  embroider- 
ing impossible  plants  on  unnecessary  antimacassars : 
whilst  a  comparatively  rationalised,  and  less  innately  snob- 
bish, public  opinion  will  cease  to  think  it  impossible  to 
visit  ladies  who  "  keep  no  servants  !"i 

1  "There  is  hardly  any  part  of  the  present  constitution  of 
society  more  essentially  vicious,  and  more  morally  injurious  to 
both  parties,  than  the  relations  between  masters  and  servants. 


84  The   True  Democratic  Spirit. 

Wlieii  one  considers  that  the  social  reconstitution  going 
on  must  finally  result  in  making  the  cost  of  living  far 
more  expensive  than  at  present  to  the  middle  and  upper 
classes — the  increased  wages  to  labor  necessarily  in- 
creasing the  cost  of  building,  of  clothes,  of  food,  and  of 
ornaments  ;  this  being,  as  we  take  it,  tlie  main  process 
by  which  the  apportioning  of  the  national  wealth  will  be 
brought  about — and  when  one  computes  the  really  very 
considerable  addition  to  the  annual  expenditure  repre- 
sented by  the  actual  total  wages  of  one  servant,  reckon- 
ing not  only  her — by  assumption,  very  appreciable — 
money-wages,  but  also  the  cost  of  her  board  and  the 
increased  house-rent  necessitated; — then  one  may,  we 
think,  see  strong  reason  for  deeming  that,  in  a  very  large 
number  of  cases,  the  household  will  prefer  to  dispense 
with  a  servant  altogether.  And  here  we  must  take 
cognisance  of  another  factor,  which  only  shows  once  more 
how  indissolubly  bound  up  and  mutually  dependent  are 
all  the  component  parts  of  social  welfare.     For,  at  pre- 

To  make  tliia  a  really  human  and  a  moral  relation  is  one  of  the 
principal  ilusidcrata  in  social  improvement.  Tlie  feeling  of  the 
vulgar  of  all  classes  tliat  domestic  service  has  anything  in  it 
peculiarly  mean,  is  a  feeling  tiian  which  there  is  none  meaner. 
In  tlie  feudal  ages,  youthful  nobles  of  the  highest  rank  tliought 
themselves  honoured  by  officiating  in  what  is  now  called  a 
menial  capacity,  al)0iit  the  persons  of  superiors  of  both  sexes, 

for  whom  they  felt  respect Much  of  the  daily  physical 

work  of  a  houseliold,  even  in  opulent  families,  if  silly  notions 
of  degradation,  common  to  all  ranks,  did  not  interfere,  might 
very  advantageously  be  performed  by  the  family  itself,  at  least 
by  its  younger  members  ;  to  whom  it  would  give  liealthful  exer- 
cise of  the  bodily  powers,  which  lias  now  to  be  sought  in  modes 
far  less  useful,  and  also  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  real 
work  01  tlie  world,"  etc.,  etc.   (J.  S.  Mill  "  On  Comte,"  p.  1G7). 


The  True  Democratic  Spbit.  85 

sent,  to  wholly  dispense  with  servants  would  produce 
grave  evils,  since  it  would  necessitate  either  always  leav- 
ing some  one  of  the  household  at  home  to  "take  care"  of 
the  house,  or  else  leaving  it  empty,  perhaps  for  hours  at 
a  time.  The  former  alteniative  has  the  hedonistic  draw- 
back that  the  family  is  never  able  to  go  out  together ; 
while  the  latter  has  to  reckon  with  the  serious  danger  of 
thieves.  But  by  hypothesis  in  our  semi-Utopia  there  are 
no  thieves  :  that  is  to  say,  only  in  so  advanced  a  social 
state  as  may  render  it  necessary  to  dispense  with  servants 
do  we  find  that  social  environment  (of  honest  people) 
that  annihilates  the — at  present — one  remaining  strong 
reason  for  retaining  servants.  How  very  greatly  a  little 
(general)  honesty  may  simplify  social  troubles  is  well 
instanced  by  the  condition  of  Heligoland.  According  to 
a  recent  newspaper-account,  the  effect  of  Heligoland 
being  a  small  isolated  island  is  that  burglars  are  un- 
known :  doors  are  left  unbolted,  and  houses  empty  and 
unguarded,  simply  because  no  thief  could  escape  from  the 
island  with  his  plunder,  and,  since  everybody  knows 
everybody,  rapid  detection  were  certain. 

This  shows  us  clearly  how  very  much  expense,  trouble, 
and  vexation,  we  might  avoid,  were  only  every  individual 
as  honest  as  the  Heligolanders — voluntarily  or  inevitably 
are. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

Some  months  after  writing  this  essay,  we  made  the  accjuaint- 
auce  of  William  Morris'  delightful  book,  Hopta  and  Feamfor 
Art :  and — having  a  great  reverence  for  the  opinions  of  a  trained 
artist,  or,  indeed,  of  any  trained  specialist  within  his  own  sphere 


86  The   True  Democratic  Spirit. 

of  work — we  were  not  a  little  gratified  to  find  Mr.  Morris  de- 
nouncing Lieonietrical  Gardening  and  the  Bedding-out  system 
almost  in  our  own  words.  For  instance  he  remarks — "  But 
there  are  some  flowers  (inventions  of  men,  i.e.,  florists)  which  are 
bad  color  altogt;tlier  and  not  to  be  used  at  all.  Scarlet-ijeraniums, 
for  instance,  or  tlie  yellow  calceolaria,  which  indeeil  are  not  un- 
commonly grown  together  profusely,  in  oriler.  I  suppose,  to  show 
that  even  flowers  can  he  thoroly  ugly"  (p.  127).  On  many  other 
pointswefound  Mr,  Morris' opinions  identical  with  those  expressed 
in  various  places  in  this  essay  :  so  much  so  indeed  that,  had  we 
read  his  work  before  writing,  we  should  scarcely  have  dared  to 
express  many  of  our  own  opinions  for  fear  of  being  accused  of 
barefaced  plagiarism.  We  need  scarcely  remark  how  great  a 
2ratificati(m  it  is  to  us  to  find  so  able  an  ally,  and  to  learn  that, 
as  regards  the  "arts"  of  life,  even  a  wholly  untrained  and 
artistically-ignorant  writer  may  find  salvation — by  tlie  help  of 
first  principles,  and  a  strong  love  of  Beauty,  only. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MANUAL    AND    MENTAL    WORK  ;    OE,    THE    UTOPIAN    DIVISION 
OF    LABOUR  :    W:TH    AN    LVQUIKY    INTO    GENIUS. 

"  That  any  citizen  may  so  behave  as  not  to  deduct  from  the 
general  welfare,  it  is  needful  tliat  he  slicill  perform  such  function 
Of  share  of  function  as  is  of  value  ec^uivaleac  at  least  lo  what  he 
consumes. " — Htrbtrt  Speiictr. 

Before  finally  quitting  the  subject  which  has  already 
occupied  us  for  the  last  two  or  three  chapters,  it  may, 
however,  be  worth  while  to  briefly  enquire  whether  after 
all — so  far  as  we  can  see — there  are  likely  to  be  any 
"  servants  "  of  any  kind  in  Utopia  itself ;  or,  to  put  the 
question  quite  generally,  whether  it  is  probable  that 
each  man  will  then  do  for  himself  all  stich  work  as  he 
would  now  pay — permanent  or  temporary — servants  to 
do  for  him — or  whether  he  will  continue  so  to  employ 
themi  The  answer  to  this  question  will  be  found,  we 
think,  to  depend  upon  the  assumptions  that  we  make 
regarding  Utopia,  and  the  definitions  by  which  we  limit 
it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  abundantly  clear  from  the  pre- 
ceding discussions  that,  long  before   Utopia  be  reached, 
the  amount  of  servant-performed-work   will    have    been 
reduced  to  a  minimum.     Not  only  will   all  the   excres- 
87 


88      Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius. 

cences  and  mere  extravagances  of  display  have  disap- 
peax-ed,  but  people  will  have  learned  to  wait  upon 
themselves  in  a  thousand  matters  for  which  they  now 
lazily  rely  upon  ladies'-maids,  valets,  and  waiters.  But 
beyond  all  these  there  lies  the  &olid  residuuni  of  useful 
and  necessary,  but  purely  mechanical  and  unintelligent, 
work  that  must  be  done  by  somebody  ;  will  each  man  do 
his  own  share  of  it,  or  will  it  all  be  deputed  to  a  class 
of  workers  who  do  nothing  else"?  Here,  after  defining 
Utopia,  we  must  take  for  our  guide  the  great  'principle 
of  the  division  of  labor.  If  the  definition  of  Utopia 
admit  that,  altho  all  are  equally  happy,  ^  yet  not  all  are 
equally  gifted,  but  some  are  born  geniuses,  others  born 
mediocre — then  the  problem  is,  we  think,  settled  at  once. 
Economics  teach  us  the  great  advantages  resulting  from 
a  division  of  labor,  when  each  concentrates  his  energies 
on  what  he  can  best  do ;  and  since  upon  the  most  econo- 
mical— i.e.  most  efficient  and  speedy — possible  produc- 
tion of  our  requisites  must  depend  the  shortening  of 
our  hours  of  labor,  or  in  other  words,  our  opportunities 
for  enjoyment,  it  seems  clear  that  in  Utopia,  even  as  here, 
will  there  be  such  a  division  of  labor  that  the  clever 
man  will  do  nothing  {no  wage-earning)  but  intellectual 
labor,  whilst  the  less  gifted  will  do  their  share  of  the 
manual  work,  and  be  well  paid  therefor.  In  addition  to 
this  consideration — of  the  time-economy  of  such  division 
of   labor — it    will    be    clear    that   a   considerably    more 

'  And  by  equality  of  happiness  we  slionld  here  nnderstand 
that  each  exercised  every  function  with  a  niaxiiniim  hedonistic 
effect — and  was  quite  satisfied  with  such  function-possibilities 
as  nature  had  allotted  tq  him. 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius.      89 

direct  and  tangible  hedonistic  loss  to  the  community 
must  ensue  if  a  portion  of  the  "working-time  of  any  great 
artist-creator  be  spent  in  doing  his  share  of  manual 
work :  for  the  world  will  lose  so  much  of  the  beauty  that 
he  would  otherwise  have  created.  It  seems  to  us,  there- 
for, that,  if  we  assume  inequality  of  genius  in  Utopia, 
we  are  bound  to  assume  that  there  will  be  such  division 
of  labor  as  corresponds  to  our  present  condition,  where 
w  e  have  hand-laborers  and  head-laborers ;  and  it  will 
at  once  be  evident  that  in  endeavoring  to  clear  up  a 
very  minor  subject,  viz.,  that  of  the  persistence  of  ser- 
vants in  a  narrow  sense,  we  have  really  found  an  answer 
to  a  very  far  broader  question.  We  have  oidy  to  reflect 
for  one  moment  on  the  utter  chaos  that  would  ensue 
were  we  to  commence  disregarding  the  division  of  labor, 
insisting  that  every  man  should  be  his  own  bootmaker, 
tailor,  haberdasher,  haircutter,  cook,  builder,  etc.,  etc.,  to 
receive  a  most  salutary  lesson  on  the  absurdity  of  sup- 
posing that  "Utopia"  connotes  the  abolition  of  very 
thoro  specialisation.  Why,  were  we  to  attempt  any 
so  mad  and  preposterous  a  scheme  as  that  just  hinted 
at,  so  far  from  life  being  made  happier  and  leisure  in- 
creased, our  lives  would  be  exhausted  after  day-long 
drudgery  before  we  had  learned  our  multifarious  trades. 
But  if  one  thus  admit  that  the  specialised  builder, 
baker,  tailor,  doctor,  schoolmaster,  et  id  omme  ge)ius, 
must  always  exist  in  Utopia,  in  order  to  ensure  eificient 
and  economic  working,  one  must  also,  we  think,  admit 
that  besides  the  specialisation  involving  distinctions  be- 
tween builder  and  baker  on  the  one  hand,  and  between 
medico  and  teacher  on  the  other,  there  must  also  be  that 


90      Manual  and  Mental  Wurk  ;  and  Genius. 

twofold  specialisation  on  which  hangs  the  broad  distinc- 
tion between  two  great  classes — ol'  hand- workers  and  of 
head-workers.  The  only  possible  alternative  to  this  were 
to  hypothecate  two  trades,  or  rather  one  "  craft  "  and  one 
■'  profession,"  to  every  man.  One  must  then  assume  that 
every  baker  is  also,  say,  a  music-master;  every  builder 
also  a  doctor ;  every  tailor  also  a  sculptor ;  and  so  on. 
But  the  difficulties,  in  which  one  thus  becomes  involved, 
are  manifest.  In  the  first  place  such  a  very  daring 
attempt  to  circumvent  the  great  principle  of  the  division 
of  labor  would  incur  its  meet  punishment;  for  our  un- 
fortunate doctor-builder,  e.g.,  would  find  himself  almost 
as  greatly  troubled  by  his  twufold  office  as  was  Pooh- 
Bali,  the  Lord-High-Everything,  of  Gilbertian  fame : 
assuredly  the  physician  would  be  perpetually  wanted  iu 
one  place  and  the  builder  in  another. 

Secondly,  far  more  manual  1  iborers  are  wanted  than 
mental  laborers  :  how  are  we  to  divide  the  offices  when 
there  are  perliaps  three  hand-workers  and  one  brain- 
worker  requiied  1  If  any  one  reply  that  each  man  should 
be  baker  or  builder,  etc.,  for  3-to  irtlis  of  his  working-day, 
and  physician  or  music-master  for  the  remaining  I-fourth 
—  so  that  instead  of  having  one  whole  physician  we  should 
have  four  quarter-physicians — then  the  result  is  surely  so 
palpably  absurd,  so  undeniably  provocative  of  inefficiency 
and  muddling,  as  to  condemn  itself. 

Thirdly,  and  most  important  of  all,  we  cannot  afford 
to  luaste.  genius :  and  if  a  man  have  a  genius  for  sculpture, 
music,  surgery,  teaching,  research,  or  what  not^  then  it 
were  the  grossest  folly  to  insist  that  he  shall  exercise  his 
special  faculty  for  only  a  quarter  of  his   working-time, 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius.      91 

while  devoting  the  remaining  3-fourths  to  laying  bricks  or 
making  breeches,  that  would  be  every  whit  as  efficiently 
laid  or  made — probably  far  more  efficiently — by  a  work- 
man who  has  no  gift  at  all  for  surj;ery,  music,  sculpture, 
or  teaching. 

Fourthly,  it  is  important  to  remember  that  if  every 
man  had  to  learn  two  trades,  there  were  so  much  the 
less  of  his  life  left  for  genuine  "  living."  for  enjoying  him- 
self— we  mean — intellectually,  esthetically,  and  physi- 
cally. It  must  be  sedulously  borne  in  mind  that  in  no 
Utopia  can  we  escape  a  certain  amount  of  hard  work  : 
there  will  be  for  each  and  all  of  us  so  many  hours  a 
day  1  of  necessary  work — all  the  glad  remainder  being 
devoted  to  music,  art,  poetry,  study,  riding,  walking,  boat- 
ing, swimming,  dancing,  talking,  and  so  on.  Now  the  one 
grand  thing  to  be  aimed  at  in  Utopia — and  one  grand 
factor  in  Utopia — is  to  diminish  to  the  lowest  possible 
minimum  each  one's  daily  ivork.  But  if  every  man  had 
to  learn  two  professions  it  is  clear  that  there  were  so 
much  more  hard  work  (of  learning)  to  do  than  would 
otherwise  be  the  case  :  in  effect  then  his  life-time  were 
shortened  ^    and,  besides  this  direct  shortening  of  verit- 

'  On  an  average,  that  is  :  thus  if  three  hours  a  day  suffice, 
every  one  will  really  do — no  doubt — five  or  «ix  hours  every 
working-day  :  but  then  he  will  have  one  or  two  days  complete 
holiday  every  week  :  and  long  stretches  of  holiday  for  travelling  : 
and,  in  such  a  state,  there  will  be  a  rational  division  and  alter- 
nation of  holiday  times  tliro'out  the  week  and  the  year. 

2  This  would  perhaps  be  met  if  we  adopted  Spencer's  principle 
that  every  activity  may  become  a  source  of  pleasure  to  us  after 
sufficient  moulding — so  that  the  twofold  apprenticeship  would 
cause  twofold  pleasure.  But  even  so  (and  we  are  so  far  striving  to 
work  out  these  problems  without  availing  ourself  of  that  prin- 
ciple) the  study  of  bricklaying  and  learning  of  Materia  Medica— 


92      Manual  and  Mental  Work  ;  and  Genius. 

able  Nvinff-tlme,  there  is  the  indirect  shortening  that 
must  ensue  if,  by  tliis  dovetailing  of  professions,  lesser 
efficienc}'  and  less  expedition  are  caused. 

These  arguments  (which  probably  by  no  means  ex- 
haust the  armoury  of  that  arch-beneficent  science  of 
economics)  appear  to  us  to  amply  demonstrate  that  in 
Utopia  (and  a  fortiori  in  semi-Utopia,  which  is  far  less 
distant)  there  will  be  the  same  specialisation  into  head- 
workers,  heartworkers,  and  handworkers,  that  we  see  at 
the  present  day  :  and  for  these  reasons  we  feel  bound  to 
entirely  dissent  from  Prince  Krapotkin's  picture  of  the 
future  social  state.  Looking  at  the  case  in  this  light, 
we  cannot  therefor  admit  that  "  whosoever  he  might  be 
— scientist  or  artist,  physician  or  surgeon,  chemist  or 
sociologist,  historian  or  poet — he  would  be  the  gainer  if 
he  spent  a  part  of  his  life  in  the  workshop  or  the  farm 
(the  workshop  and  the  farm)  if  he  were  in  contact  with 
humanity  in  its  daily  work,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that   he    himself   discharges  his   duties    as  an 

imprivileged  producer  of  wealth And  how  would 

gain  the  poet  in  his  feeling  of  the  beauties  of  Nature, 
how  much  better  would  he  know  the  human  heart,  if  he 
met  the  rising  sun  amidst  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  himself 
a  tiller ;  if  he  fought  against  the  storm  with  the  sailors 
on  board  ship  ;  if  he  knew  the  poetry  of  labor  and  rest, 
sorrow  and  joy,  struggle  and  conquest."  ^ 

both  nccetisary  evils — are  not  .so  pleasurable  as  leisure-time  studies 
and  pursuits  :  so  that  the  total  possible  pleasure  is  diminished. 
Moreover  the  apprenticesliip  to  the  medical  profession  is  already 
a  long  one  :  if  the  probation  be  doubled  by  the  learner's  time 
being  halved,  then  the  suspense  will  become  intolerably  tedious. 
••  Hope  deferred  "  etc.  (See  also  note  to  p.  213.) 
'  Nineteenth  Century,  March,  1890. 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Gcnijis.      93 

No  work  is  so  exhausting  as  headwork  ;  and  it  is 
therefor  impossible  (in  any  healthy  society  where  the 
genius  is  not  sacrificed  for  the  good  of  others)  to  get 
more  than  a  certain  quantum  of  headwork  per  day  from 
each  such  worker.  But  if,  furtliermore,  his  working  day 
is  to  be  half  or  three-fourths  occupied  in  bricklaying  or 
tailoring,  then  we  shall  have  to  wait  a  weary  long  while 
for  the  fruits  of  his  work.  In  fact,  any  such  proposition 
involves  such  an  extravagant  waste  of  hrain-power  (the 
most  valuable  motive-power  of  all)  that  we  almost  ven- 
ture to  think  that  it  is  only  requisite  to  realise  Prince 
Krapotkin's  scheme  in  order  to  reject  it  as  an  impossible 
solution.* 

We  have  not  yet  noticed  one  objection — which  with 
some  would  appear  the  gravest  of  all — against  such 
head-cum-hand-vvorking  ;  namely,  that  it  almost  neces- 
sarily involves — or  at  the  very  least  it  subjects  us  to  the 
heaviest  risk  of — a  governmental  overlooking,  a  dragoon- 
ing, an  elaborate  system  of  officialism,  of  restrictions, 
commands,  rules,  regulations,  and  interferences,  such  as 
are  utterly  incompatible  with  thoro  spontaneity  and 
individualism,  and  clash  harshly  with  our  healthy 
English  notions  of  Liberty.  We  have  not  put  this 
objection  in  the  forefront,  and  cannot  expect  it  to  have 

1  In  Prince  Krapotkin's  scheme  the  workei's  are — we  believe — 
to  divide  not  their  days,  between  hand  and  head  work,  but  tlieir 
lives.  Thus,  after  ten  or  fifteen  years'  sailoring,  tailoring,  or 
bricklaying,  the  worker  would  take  up  teaching,  surgery,  or 
what  not.  This  scheme,  whilst  avoiding  one  minor  absurdity, 
to  which  we  have  drawn  attention,  escapes  none  of  the  chief 
objections  one  whit,  and  encounters  the  graver  objection  that 
youth  is  the  time  for  learning,  and  that  after  years  of  this 
manual  woik  it  is  too  late  to  learn  a  profession. 


94      Manual  and  Mental  Work ;  and  Genius. 

any  weight  with  our  communistic  friends — who  think 
notliing  so  delightful  as  to  be  ruled  by  the  State  for  the 
State's  good  :  but  we  hope  that  our  other  arguments  are 
sufficiently  satisfactory  :  and,  since  our  object  has  been, 
not  to  prove  that  manual  and  mental  labourers  must 
co-exist  in  Utopia,^  but  simply  to  enquire,  purely  dis- 
passionately, whether  they  would  or  not,  we  can  very 
well  afford  to  waive  this  last  argument  if  the  Communists 
think  it  untenable. 

But,  having  cleared  up  this  perplexity,  we  are  at  once 
met  by  another.  Admitting  that  some  will  do  only 
headwork,  and  some  only  handwork,  will  all  be  paid 
alike  :  in  other  words,  will  remuneration  depend  upon 
value  (or  rarity)  of  result,  or  upon  quantity  of  labor  be- 
stowed— as  in  the  celebrated  Owenite  labor-exchange] 
That  it  would  be  practicable  in  this  present  state  of 
society  to  make  price  a  fimction  simply  of  quantity-of-labor- 
bestowed  {i.e.,  of  length  of  laboring-hours)  seems  almost 
so  transparent  a  fallacy  that  one  wonders  how  an  Owenite 
exchange  could  ever  have  been  instituted.  But  we  are 
inclined  to  think  that  in  &  perfect  Utopia  there  will  be,  if 
not  this  scheme,  at  least  a  very  close  approximation  to  it. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  prove  that  Utopians  would  desire  it 
and,  so  far  as  possible,  bring  it  about ;  the  only  question 
is  whether  it  would  come  about  as  a  natural  process — in 

'  If  any  communist  accuse  us  of  setting  out  to  prove  this  con- 
clusion, we  can  only  reply  that  tlie  accusation  is  false  :  we  began 
to  think  out  the  subject,  and  our  train  of  reasoning  is  set  down 
exactly  as  it  ran.  We  think  that  there  is  scarcely  any  such 
caste- prejudice  apparent  in  this  essay  as  would  justify  the  false 
accusation  :  and  we  did  not  anticipate  some  of  the  wuclusiona  to 
wliich  our  reasoning  has  led  us. 


Manual  and  Mental  Woik  ;  and  Genius.      95 

which  case  alone  it  would  flourish  healthily ;  for  we  have 
the  most  profound  distrust  of  all  artificial  schemes,  by 
which  doctrinaires  flatter  themselves  that  they  can 
circumvent  the  inevitable  Nemeses  of  Nature.  We  think 
that— without  going  into  details — since  we  hope  at 
another  time  to  enquire  fully  into  this  subject — we  may  see 
various  indications  pointing  to  such  a  state  of  things.  The 
mere  fact  that  intellectual  acquirements  become  commoner 
will  tend  to  depreciate  their  pay  relatively  to  the  pay  of 
manual  workers ;  whilst  a  possibly  relatively  decreasing 
liking  for  manual  work  will  inevitably  force  up  the  pay 
by  diminishing  the  supply  of  labor.  Moreover,  as 
genius  becomes  commoner/  not  only  will  the  enormous 
sums  now  paid  for  works  of  art,  and  to  musicians  and 
surgeons,  necessarily  become  smaller,  but  if  the  Utopians 
get  into  their  heads  the  notion  that  only  labor  and  not 
heaven-given  brains  ^  should  be  paid  for,  they  will  be  on 

'  Commoner  both  because  more  geninses  will  be  born  and  be- 
cause every  genius  that  is  born  (and  lives)  will  be  made  known. 
'  Mute  inglorious  Miltons"  will  not  exist  in  Utopia. 

2  We  trust  that  no  reader  will  suspect  us  of  anything  so  wildly 
preposterous  as  a  desii-e  to  depreciate  the  unique  value  of  genius, 
i.e.,  of  heaven-given  brains.  We  do  not  think  that  anyone  can 
more  fully  recognize  than  ourself  how  absolutely  indispensable 
is  genius  to  progress  in  any  direction,  and  how  crying  is  our  need 
for  more  genius  ;  and  equally  do  we  appreciate, Mr.  Galton's  con- 
clusions (see  Hereditary  Genius— a.  golden  book)  that  a  greater 
supply  of  genius  per  million  inhabitants  is  correlated  with  a 
heightening  of  each  intellectual  grade.  But  in  the  text  we  are 
concerned  with  not  backward  to-day  but — advanced  Utopia  ; 
and,  farther,  in  speaking  of  the  disproportionate  pay  of  head- 
work,  we  refer  only  to  certain  kinds  of  work  whicli  to-day  are 
ridiculously  over-paid  in  comnarixon  with,  not  only  simple 
labor,  but,  with  other  work  of  e([ual  or  greater  genius.  Not 
only  do  we  think  that  the  disproportion  between  the  pay  of,  on 


96      Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius. 

that  account  also  averse  to  paying  so  highly  as  at 
present;  in  fact  the  mere  desire  to  equalise  the  wages  of 
labor  will  at  that  stage  operate  as  a  natural  factor  in  the 
equalising  tendency.     And  lastly,  the  mure  that  manual 

the  one  hand,  a  celebrated  painter  or  popular  surt,'eon,  and,  on 
the  other,  that  of  a  philosoplier  or  scieutitic  enijuirer,  will  be  re- 
latively reduced  ;  but  we  also  suspect  that  tlie  great  incomes  of 
the  lucky  former  few  will  be  absolutely  and  considerably  re- 
duced. Most  of  all,  too,  do  we  consider  as  incongruous  (in 
Utopia)  the  huge  payments  made  to  a  prima-donna,  e.r/.,  who  is 
paid,  not  for  brain-power  even,  but  for  tlie  lucky  natural  gift  of 
a  rare  voice.  It  is  in  such  cases  that  the  payment  is  so  glaringly 
disproportionate  to  the  labor.  At  the  same  time  we  may  point 
out  that  this  question  as  to  whether — in  a  strictly  moral  sclieme, 
in  an  ideal  state  where  men's  actions  will  be  presumably  somewhat 
otherwise  than  as  at  present  formulated  by  Political  Economy — 
native  Genius  bestowed  hy  Nature,  or  personal  Labor  bestowed  by 
each  man,  should  be  reckoned  pay-worthy,  is  an  important  one. 
At  present,  of  course,  literally  the  best  policy  for  the  com- 
munity is  to  heavily  reward  genius,  and  by  every  means  to 
encourage  its  exertion,  since  a  constant  supply  of  genius  is  the 
sine  qua  non  for  progress  in  every  sense,  and  to  ill  reward  it  is 
suicidal  ;  but  possibly  by  and  bye  Genius — arrived  at  a  corre- 
spondingly high  moral  stage— will  decidedly  ol)ject  to  being 
heavily  paid  and  rewarded  for  its  own  good  luck  in  having  been 
born  genius.  The  case  is  very  analogous  to  that  of  the  love  of 
fame  and  glory,  concerning  wiuch  we  must  speak  in  a  later 
chapter.     (See  pp.  109-1-Jl). 

We  may  incidentally  remark  here  that  such  a  conception  of  the 
claims  of  Genius  must  react  more  or  less  on  our  attitude  towards 
Individualism  (as  opposed  to  Socialism) ;  for  tho  we  may  admit 
to  the  fullest,  with  Spencer,  the  general  postulates  of  a  man's 
indefeasible  right  to  benetit  by  his  own  labor,  and  furthermore 
the  practical  necessity  that,  during  the  struggle  for  existence, 
the  best-endowed  (luckiest)  should  profit  by  their  natural  endow- 
ments, yet  the  case  of  naturally-gifted  men  in  a  comparatively 
civilized  society  is  very  different.  At  any  rate,  we  should 
greatly  like  to  see  the  point  argued  whether  a  born  prima  donna, 
or  born  genius  of  any  sort,  can  with  i>erj'tct  eqmly  amass  a  fortune 
by  means  of  such  lucky  natural  gifts. 


I 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius.      97 

WDges  go  up,  the  more,  that  is,  that  the  cost  of  living  be- 
comes increased,  the  less  money  will  it  be  possible  to  pay  for 
valuable  head  work.  It  does,  therefor,  appear  to  us  that 
in  perfect  Utopia  there  is  a  strong  probability  of  all  labor 
— manual  or  mental — being  equally  paid :  and  perhaps 
this  conclusion  will  tend  to  reconcile  to  us  the  communists, 
who  may  resent  our  dissent  from  the  propositions  of 
Prince  Krapotkin.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  highly 
necessary  to  point  out  that  this  system  of  payment  of 
labor  could  work  only  in  Utopia  :  in  our  present  semi- 
moral  condition  the  effects  of  any  such  system  (if  it 
could  even  be  introduced — which,  of  course,  it  could  not) 
would  be  ruinous.  If  six  hours  bricklaying  were  paid  as  :  J^ 
well  as  six  hours  teaching  or  six  hours  carving  or  six 
hours  singing,  very  few  would  take  the  least  trouble  to 
acquire  difficult  arts  or  to  train  natural  gifts  at  an  ex- 
pense of  hard  study :  all  improvement,  all  progress, 
would  be  abruptly  checked,  and  the  world  might 
choose — perhaps — between  stagnation  and  degeneration. 
The  prospect  of  a  big  reward  is  to  a  large  extent  the 
stimulus  by  which  action,  invention,  and  progress,  are 
born  ;  and,  normally,  only  a  very  perfect  man  would  be 
so  naturally  moral  and  conscientious  as  to  exercise,  to  the 
very  fullest,  his  talents  and  genius  for  the  same  reward 
that  a  bricklayer  gets.  Therefor,  we  have  been  careful  to 
say  that  labor  will  probably  be  thus  paid  in  a  perfect 
Utopia:  in  the  preliminary  semi-Utopia  no  such  system 
can  prevail :  tho  of  course  we  doubt  not  that  the  in- 
equality of  pay  will  be  far  less  than  now. 

But  it  is   time  to  remind   the   reader  that   for  some 
pages   we   have  been   arguiug  upon   the   former   of  two 


08      Maiiual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius. 

assumptions  as  to,  or  rather  definitions  of,  Utopia.  We 
agreed  to  assume,  first  of  all,  that  in  Utopia  men  are  not 
all  equally  gifted  :  if  however  we  now  make  the  second 
assumption  that  all  are  equally  gifted,  what  result  will 
follow  ?  Clearly  then  several  objections  to  the  non- 
specialisation  into  manual  and  mental  workers,  will 
vanish  :  and  it  becomes  simply  a  question  whether  it 
would  be  convenient  to  adopt  the  one  system  or  the 
other.  Anyhow,  it  would  seem  certain  that  in  this  case 
all  wages  would  be  equal. 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  supposition  appears  to  us 
utterly  improbable :  for  if  all  are  equally  gifted,  no 
geniuses  can  exist,  or  (what  comes  to  the  same  thing) 
all  alike  are  geniuses.  If  anyone  should  seek  to  escape 
this  by  hypothecating  a  certain  limited  number  of 
geniuses,  and  perfect  equality  of  gifts  among  all  the  rest, 
he  can  be  at  once  shown  to  hypothecate  a  self-contra- 
dictory proposition.  A  genius  is  not  a  soUtar}'  fact,  but 
a  correlate  of  very  many  preceding  facts  :  a  one  genius 
must  be  preceded  and  followed  (it  is  a  necessary  con- 
sequence of  heredity)  by  many  half  and  quarter  geniuses  : 
so  that  the  dead  level  of  "  gifteduess  "  is  at  once  broken 
up,  and  our  second  assumption  vanishes. 

It  is — to  take  a  physical  analogy — just  like  the  case 
of  a  mountain-peak :  a  lofry  peak  always  does,  and 
always  must,  imply  a  somewhat  less  lofty  mountain- 
I'ange:  and  we  might  far  more  reasonably  expect  a  single 
straight  columnar  peak  to  rise  sheer  10,000  feet  out 
of  a  prairie,  than  expect  isolated  geniuses  to  rise  from 
an  absolute  dead  level  of  clever  men.  But  if  any  would 
escape    this    dilemma    by    asserting   that    all    alike    are 


Manual  and  Mental  Work  ;  and  Genius.      99 

geniuses,  or  that  none  are,  he  does  not  so  get  out  of 
the  quagmire.  Are  we  to  understand  that  every  man 
is  a  Shakespeare,  a  Raphael,  a  Newton,  a  Shelley  ?  Then, 
involuntarily,  bursts  forth  the  reflection,  "  What  an 
unmitigated  nuisance  we  should  all  be  to  one  another  : 
the  nineteenth  century  would  be  almost  preferable  to 
such  an  appallingly  clever  Utopia  !  "  But  if— putting 
aside  this  supposition  for  a  moment — it  be  assumed 
that  in  that  high  dead-level  of  Utopia  no  such  geniuses 
as  these  giants  of  the  Past  can  again  appear,  then  again 
the  assumption  lands  one  in  a  contradiction.  What 
possible  warrant  can  there  be  for  assuming  that  the 
highly  gifted  future  is  unable  to  produce  what  the 
barbarous  past  has  produced  ? 

This  is  exactly  as  absurd  as  to  consider  Shelley  and 
Milton  more  likely  natives  of  Fiji  or  Australia  than  of 
civilised  England :  it  is  simply  to  assert  that  a  lofty 
mountain  peak  is  more  likely  to  occur  in  England  than 
in  the  Alps  :  which  is  absurd. 

We  return,  therefor,  to  the  assumption  that  not  only 
are  all  equally  gifted  in  Utopia,  but  that  all  are  geniuses 
at  least  equal  to  the  greatest  men  of  the  past.  But  on 
closer  examination  this  will  also,  we  think,  be  found  to 
involve  a  contradiction.  What  precisely  do  we  under- 
stand by  equal  gifts — equal  genius'?  Between  two 
geniuses  of  the  same  quality  we  may  certainly  institute 
a  quantitative  comparison ;  and  we  may  decide  that 
Shelley  was  greater  than  Wordsworth,  Mozart  than 
Haydn,  Newton  than  Huygheus,  Darwin  than  Lamarck, 
and  so  on  without  very  much  trouble.  But  how  are 
we  to  quantitatively  compare  artistic  or  musical  genius 


lOO    Manual  and  Mt)ital  Work;  and  Genius. 

with  scientific  genius  %  How  can  we  possibly  ask  whicli 
was  tlie  greatest — Shelley,  Mozart,  Darwin,  or  Raphael  % 
It  seems  to  us  that  here  we  are  hopelessly  stranded  :  we 
want  to  measure — is  it  exact  enough  to  say — "brain- 
power " — or  shall  we  say — "  originality  of  thought  "  '] 
Anyhow  we  want  to  measure  some  very  complex  and 
rare  Brain-function  ;  and  the  only  possible  scale  (and 
that  a  most  unsatisfactory  one)  by  which  we  may 
measure  it,  is  work  produced.^  But  when  the  works 
are  incommensurable  we  are  left  utterly  helpless : 
how  then  can  we  decide  as  to  the  greatness  of 
genius  ? 

It  is  a  commonplace  with  some  people  that  genius  is 
essentially  the  same,  and  that  the  particular  direction 
taken  by  the  genius  is  merely  a  chance  of  the  environ- 
ment ;  that  Raphael  and  Newton,  Mozart  and  Darwin, 
might,  under  opposite  conditions,  and  in  opposite  ages, 
have  taken  each  the  other's  place.  But  from  this  view 
we  must  utterly  dissent,  since  it  appears  to  us  flatly  con- 
tradicted both  by  psychology  and  biography  :  painting  is 
the  outcome  of  an  intensely  concrete  mind,  mathematics 
of  an  abstract  mind,  and  so  on.  Surely  it  is  sufficient  to 
even  glance  at  the  biographies  of  early  genius,  of  Mozart  a 
musician  at  three  or  four  years,  and  Shelley  a  poet  at  school, 
and  numbers  more  of  similar  cases,  to  be  convinced  that 
music,  poetry,  or  science,  is  no  chance-wiot^^er,  moulded 
by  the/orm  of  one  same  genius,  but  that  genius  is  born 
to  its  own  peculiar  object-matter.     Again,  a  study  of  the 

1  And  not  merely,  either,  absolutely,  but  relatively :  that  is  to 
say  the  value  of  tlie  work  pioduced — as  a  Brain-index — must  be 
estimated  by  the  dilliculties  to  be  overcome  in  producing  it. 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius.     loi 

biography  of  genius  will  show  that  in  many,  if  not  in 
most,  cases  artistic  genius  is  concomitant  with  a  peculiar 
unhingement,  or  at  least  unstable  equilibrium,  of  the 
mind  :  and  Dryden's  dictum  that  "  Great  wits  are  sure 
to  madness  near  allied "  seems  literally  true  of  artistic 
genius.  The  excess  of  passion,  emotion,  susceptibility, 
that  is  essential  to  poets,  artists,  iBusicians,  marks  a 
mind  so  strnng  that  there  needs  but  a  shock  to  jar  it 
altogether.  The  irritabile  genus  is  especially  a  truthful 
epithet  of  artistic  geniuses. 

But  the  scientific,  mathematical,  or  philosophic,  genius 
is  composed  of  very  different  mental  elements  :  in  him 
calmness,  abstraction,  and  balance,  replace  the  passion 
and  unrest  of  the  artist :  and  it  is  a  striking  testimony 
to  this  difiterence  that  the  Bicetre  registers  show  that 
maniacs  of  Hie  more  educated  classes  consist  almost 
entirely  of  priests,  artists,  painters,  sculptors,  poets,  and 
musicians ;  but  in  no  cases,  it  is  said,  of  naturalists, 
physicians,  geometricians,  or  chemists.  ^  It  would  be 
easy  to  pursue  this  subject  much  further  and  bring  for- 
ward considerable  evidence  :  but  that  would  lead  us  out  of 
our  path  :  our  object  is  simply  to  point  out  that  genius  is 
not  one  definite  cast  of  mind,  but  that  there  are  very 
many  very  different  forms  of  genius.     It  is  sufficient  to 


1  Conolly  as  quoted  by  Abercrombie  ;  cf.,  too,  Galton's 
Hereditary  Genius.  According  to  Lombtoso,  liowever,  the  man 
of  genms  is  nearly  always  more  or  less  closely  allied  to  insanity. 
En  passant  we  may  suggest  the  great  service  to  this  branch  of 
psychology  that  would  be  done  by  a  detailed  critique  of  Loin- 
broso's  work  by,  e.g.,  Mi'.  Francis  Galtou,  who  holds  such  very 
different  views. 


102    Manual  and  Mental  Work  ;  and  Genius. 

indicate  the  evidence  that  may  be  found,  in  biography 
and  psychology,  to  prove  this  point. 

But  if  genius  be  thus  so  very  different  qitrditatively,  it 
will  be  found  to  follow  necessarily  that  there  are  pro- 
found quantitative  differences  making  up  this  qualitative 
difference.  The  mind  is  a  complex  of  many  elements, 
any  of  which  may  be  much  or  little  developed,  but  in 
one  and  the  same  gifted  mind  equal  development  of  all 
the  elements  is  never  to  be  found. 

It  is  essential  to  the  formation  of  an  artistic  genius 
that  the  concrete  elements  of  the  mind  should  he  pro- 
minent and  the  abstract  unmarked  ;  to  the  mathematical 
genius  precisely  the  opposite  ;  and  so  to  every  peculiar 
shade  of  genius  there  must  be  a  peculiar  hypertrophy  of 
certain  mental  elements.  It  therefor  appears  to  us 
that  qualitative  differences  of  genius  necessitate  quantita- 
tive differences  of  mind :  but  if  so,  then  the  arguments 
already  adduced  will  show  that  mental  inequality  miist 
prevail  thro'out  tiie  society — or,  in  otlier  words,  that  in 
no  future  society,  not  even  in  Utopia  itself,  can  all  men 
be  equally  gifted.  It  does  not  appear  to  us  sufficient  to 
assume  that  by  such  general  processes  as  may  be  exem- 
plified by  tlie  individual  case  of  a  poet's  son  marrying  a 
matliematician's  daughter,  an  equable  double-sided 
genius  would  be  produced  :  no  doubt  very  clever,  very 
talented,  offspring  would  be  obtained,  but  it  appears  to 
us  that  to  produce  a  genius  some  one  mental  power  must 
be  greatly,  pre-eminently,  if  not,  alas !  eiclusively, 
developed.^ 

'  We  find  our  arguments  as  to  the  great  variety  of  human  genius, 
and  also  as  to  the  connection  between  qualitative  and  qiianti- 


Manual  and  Mental  Work  ;  and  Genius.    103 

Moreover,  there  are  very  cogent  biological  reasons 
rendering  it  doubtful  whether  this  intellectual  unity  of 
level  can  ever  be  reached  ;  and  whether  we  may  not 
rather  expect  that  the  older  grows  the  world  the  greater 
variations  will  be  found  in  its  inhabitants.  Individuality 
is  probably /ar  more  marked  to-day,  and  mental  diverg- 
ence from  type  far  greater,  than  was  the  case  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  or  than  obtains  now  among  savages  ^  and 
barbarians. 

The  slight  insight,  that  we  have  already  obtained  into 
the  mechanism  and  results  of  heredity,  seems  to  indicate 
greater  chance  of  variation  the  farther  we  go;  and  we 
should  imagine  that,  could  the  chances  be  calculated  by 
a  mathematician,  infinity  were  requisite  to  produce  uni- 
versal uniformity —  if  even  infinity  could.  Perhaps  some 
might  feel  inclined  to  retort  upon  us  that,  in  far  less  than 
infinite  time,  some  one  or  two  types  are  bound  to  swamp 
all  the  others  ;  just  as  Galtun  has  calculated  that,  starting 
with  so  many  different  surnames  in  a  confined  community, 
a  certain  number  die  out  in  each  generation  until,  finally, 
a  veiy  small  number  have  obtained  universal  prevalence. 
But  the  problem  is  really  not  nearly  so  simjile  as  this — 
even    putting   aside    the    initial    objection    that,    in    the 

tative  differences,  considerably  strengthened  byGalton's  Enquiry 
into  Human  Faculty  and  Bain's  On  the  Study  of  Character  re- 
spectively— two  works  with  which  we  were  not  familiar  at  the 
time  of  writing  the  above.  With  regard  to  the  (Helvetius)  doc- 
trine of  the  sameness  of  genius — referred  to  on  p.  100 — we  may 
direct  our  readers'  attention  to  Prof.  Bain's  Criticism  of  J.  S. 
Mill  (passim)  for  animadversions  thereupon. 

'  One  need  not,  however,  attribute  the  sheep-like  similarity  of 
euch  (small)  communities  to  their  lowly  character  only  :  the 
absence  of  interuiarria''e  must  be  taken  into  account. 


104    Manual  and  Aleut al  Work;  and  Getiins. 

struggle  for  existence  amonc?  surnames,  half  the  popula- 
tion, i.e.,  all  tiie  women,  are  necessarily  ignored. 

Let  us  pause  a  moment  to  consider  this  problem. 
What  is  the  mechanism  of  heredity  1  So  far  as  our 
knowledge  goes  at  present,  the  chromatin-threads  in  the 
nucleus  of  the  reproductive  cells  are  the  vehicles  of 
heredity :  now  these  chromatin-threads  contain  thou- 
sands of  ancestral  qualities  of  almost  every  conceivable 
type  ;  and  by  the  composition  (whether  qualitative  or 
quantitative,  or  both)  of  these  chromatin-threads,  the 
character  of  the  resultant  organism  will  be  determined.  If 
in  both  the  mule  and  the  female  chromatin-threads  there 
were  contained  units  of  poetical  or  scientific  faculty  for 
instance ;  or  if  there  were  present  in  the  two  contribu- 
tories  units  which,  when  brought  together,  resulted  in  the 
production  of,  e.g.,  poetic  and  scientific  faculty,  tho 
neither  hind  of  unit  had  any  such  effect  alone — and  we  do 
not  know  but  what  this  may  be  the  chief  and  essential 
process  by  which  genius  is  gradually  built  up  ^ — then 
we  can  well  understand  how  these  units,  re-enforcing  one 
another,  could  bring  about  t\\Q  —  apparently  spasmodically- 
occurrent — Ge7iins.  "  Well  then" — it  may  be  retorted — • 
"given  sufficient  intermarriage,  an  unrestricted  paiimixia, 
and  the  uniformity  is  certain :  for  in  a  comparatively 
few  generations  you  get  all  these  chroviatin-threads  so 
thoroly  mixed  up,  that  every  generative  nucleus  will 
contain   equal    proportions   of    every   kind   of  'unit'  in 

^  Altho  we  are  still  abnost  entirely  in  the  rlaik  as  to  tlie 
actual  facts,  and  can  only  speculate  from  scanty  data,  yet  the 
extraordinary  phenomena  of  the  distrib;;tion  of  genius  seem  to 
us  very  strongly  to  indicate  such  a  process ;  but  to  discuss  the 
subject  would  lead  us  far  into  biography  and  lieredity. 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  ajid  Genius.     103 

the  community  ! "  But  is  the  actual  case  anything  like 
so  simple  as  this,  and  not  rather  infinitely  more  com- 
plicated ?  Let  us  take  a  simple  analogy.  Here  are  a 
thousand  differently  colored  beads  and  a  million  kaleido- 
scopes, and — to  grant  the  most  favorable  case  to  the 
objector — there  are  a  million  individuals  of  each  bead, 
and  a  thousand  beads  in  each  kaleidoscope.  Now,  look 
thro  some  of  the  kaleidoscopes:  you  will  find  every 
conceivable  variety  of  design  and  color.  Very  well,  let 
these  million  kaleidoscopes  with  all  their  difi^erences  re- 
present the  society  of  to-day  ;  and  let  certain  2ycitt€rns  or 
arrangements  represent  genius,  and  let  a  combination  of 
all  the  thousand  differently-colored  beads  represent  a 
perfectly  all-round  man  with  eveiy  human  faculty.  Now, 
postulate  as  much  time  as  you  like,  so  as  to  institute 
the  most  perfect  panmixia,  and  we  will  concede  that  at 
last  you  have  contrived  to  get  one  bead  each  of  every 
color  into  each  of  the  million  kaleidoscopes ;  so  that, 
as  regards  their  composition,  your  kaleidoscopes  are  all 
alike.  But  are  you  any  nearer  getting  the  same  kaleido- 
scopic effects  manifested  by  your  kaleidoscopes  ]  Scarcely 
appreciably  so  !  for  the  pattern,  the  effect,  depends  n<  t 
upon  color  only  but  ujonn  arrangement,  and  you  ure 
powerless  to  condition  the  arrangement — much  less  to 
ensure  that,  shaking  up  j-our  million  kaleidoscopes  in  a 
machine,  you  will  produce  a  million  copies  of  one  and 
the  same  pattern ;  much  less  still  to  I'estore  that  or 
another  pattern  to  all  the  million  after  another  agita- 
tion :  and  so  on.  If,  therefor,  Genius  be  to  any  extent  a 
function  of  pattern  or  arrangement,  as  ivell  as  of  composi- 
tion— as  we  should  imagine  that  most  biologists  and 
8 


io6    Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius. 

psychologists  will  insist  that  it  is — then  this  kaleidoscope- 
analogy  will  help  us  to  perceive  how  utterly  futile  it  is 
to  expect  uniformity  of  character  as  a  result  of  however 
much  panmixia.  1  But  the  difficulty  is  really  even  far 
greater  than  this  kaleidoscope-analogy  suggests,  for  the 
generative  nuclei  with  their  chromatin-threads  are  the 
analogue,  not  of  a  kaleidoscope,  but  of  a  specially  segre- 
gated, infinitesimally  small,  product  of  the  kaleidoscope 
and  its  contents,  possessing  the  faculty  of  developing 
another  kaleidoscope  and  contents,  and  affected  as  to  its 
composition  and  character  by  a  thousand  and  one  varia- 
tions in  the  environment  !  Add  to  all  this  the  yet  far 
greater  complication  that  the  living  organism,  unlike  the 
kaleidoscope,  may,  under  the  influence  of  the  excedingly 
variable  stimuli,  both  external  and  internal,  produce  not 
only  varieties  hut  sudden  .ymrts  which  may  breed  true, 
which  is  as  tho  any  of  our  kaleidoscopes  could  evolve 
several  new  colors  at  any  time,  and,  consequently,  the 
faculty  of  forming  hundreds  of  new  patterns — and  the 
case  seems  conclusive  !  And  note  that  we  are  ignoring 
the  possibility  of  acgMiVff?mental  character  being  inherited;^ 
which  possibility  with  all  its  corollaries,  if  granted,  would 
alone  annihilate  the  argument  for  uniformity. 

'  Of  course  the  difficulty  were  proportionately  lessened  if  we 
could  suppose  tliat  the  composition  itself  was  a  factor  in  deter- 
mining the  arrangement  after  agitation. 

^  The  scientific  reader  will  of  course  have  perceived  the  refer- 
ence to  Weismann's  work  thro'out  this  argument.  Any  non- 
biological  reader  interested  in  the  subject  is  strongly  advised  to 
read  Weismann's  E-'isays  on  Heredity  and  Germ  Plasm.  With 
regard  to  the  extraordinary  ditf'ereiices  of  human  character,  ride 
biographies,  etc.,  generally,  and  Galton's  Enquiry  into  Human 
Faculty  particularly. 


Manual  and  Mental  Work;  and  Genius.    107 

On  the  whole  then,  it  seems  fair  to  sum  up  by  saying 
that  even  after  infinite  time  there  seems  no  reason  to 
expect  uniformity  of  mind ;  and  that  a  fortiori  therefor 
there  is  no  ground  for  supposing  that  in  semi-Utopia  or 
Utopia  itself  all  will  be  equally  gifted  ;  ^  but  there  is 
very  strong  reason  for  supposing  that  then,  as  now,  there 
will  exist  varying  degrees  of  talent ;  and  in  favor  of  this 
contention  may  be  quoted  the  following  passage  from 
Weismann  : — 

"  When  once  individual  differences  have  begun  to 
appear  in  a  species  propagated  by  this  process  (of  sexual 
reproduction)  iiniformity  among  its  individuals  can  never 
again  he  reached.  So  far  from  this  being  the  case,  the 
differences  must  even  be  increased  in  the  course  of 
generations,  not  indeed  in  intensity  but  in  number ;  for 
new  combinations  of  the  individual  character  will  con- 
tinually arise."2 

And  here  perhaps  it  is  well  to  point  out,  what  ought 
however  to  be  already  quite  clear  to  the  reader,  viz.,  that 
the  Utopia  (and  the  semi-Utopia)  with  which  we  are 
concerned,  is  no  arbitrary  invention  of  one's  own  braiu, 
which  may  be  constituted  exactly  as  its  author's  fancy 
pleases,  but,   on  the   contrary,   a  distant  society  whose 

'  It  is  therefor  not  worth  while  to  follow  out  this  supposition 
in  detail  ;  but  supposing  that  there  could  possil)ly  exist  a  society 
of  equally  gifted  (and  equally  industrious  and  moral)  men,  it  is 
clear  that  all  wages  would  tend  to  equality,  whether  the  manual 
and  mental  laborers  were  distinct  or  not  :  for  any  such  distinc- 
tion, if  made,  could  result  only  from  some  kind  of  arbitrary 
division— as,  e.r/. ,  by  casting  lots  to  decide  who  should  be  brick- 
layer and  who  physician.  Note  that  the  relative  agreeableness  or 
disagreeableness  of  difl'erent  occupations  would  however  exercise 
a  somewhat  disequalising  influencB. 

^  Estays  in  Heredity,  vol.  i.,  p.  282. 


io8    Manual  a)id  Mental  Work;  and  Genius. 

characters  must  be  inferred  by  rigorous  argument  from 
the  data  afforded  by  Evolutionism  and  Sociology.  The 
tellers  of  fairy-tales,  and  builders  of  purely  imaginary 
Utopias,  might  legitimately  build  entirely  according  to 
their  own  fancies ;  and,  setting  out  with  the  premise 
tiiat  all  men  should  be  happy  and  equal,  might  arrange 
their  Utopia  in  such  wise  as  to  make  them  so.  But  our 
procedure  must  be  entirely  different ;  having  learned  from 
Biology  and  Sociology  what  is  possible  in  the  way  of 
human  development,  and  what  tendencies  are  likely  to 
persist,  we  must  endeavor  to  imagine — arguing  from 
these  data — what  sort  of  social  state  is  likely,  and  what 
happiness  Man  may  expect  there.  In  fact,  the  difference 
is  just  this — that  in  the  old  anthropomorphic  fairy-tales 
the  invariable  assumption  was  always  made  that  man  was 
the  one  and  supreme  aim  of  Nature  ;  consequently  that 
whatever  conditions  were  necessary  to  ensure  his  perfect 
happiness,  these  conditions  must  be  postulated  as  a 
possibility,  probability,  or  certainty,  of  the  Future.  Tiie 
fact  that  man  hates  death  were  a  fair  warrant  for  making 
him  immortal  in  the  Utopia  of  fairy-tale — that  he  wants 
to  fly,  for  giving  him  wings.  But  we  of  to-day  must  take 
a  very  different  course ;  having  ascertained,  to  the  best 
of  our  ability,  the  limit  of  possibilities,  our  problem  is  to 
determine  how  far  man  can  adapt  himself,  and  how  much 
hap])ines8  will  ensue.  We  would  therefor  insist  that 
cwir  Utopia  is  no  wild  dream,  but  that  all  our  speculations 
thereupon  may  have — or  at  least  should  have — a  rigorous 
scientific  justification. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ON    FAME,    HONOR,    AND    GLORY. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  to  be  for  ever  known. 
And  make  the  age  to  come  mine  own  ?  " 

•'  There  was  a  morning  when  I  longed  for  Fame  ; 
There  was  a  noontide  when  I  passed  it  by  ; 
There  is  an  evening  when  I  think  not  shame 
Its  substance  and  its  being  to  deny." 

"  Oh  youth,  men  praise  so,  holds  their  praise  its  worth  ? 
Blown  harshly,  keeps  the  trump  its  golden  cry  ? 
Tastes  sweet  the  water  with  such  specks  of  earth  ? " 

Perhaps,  before  passing  to  other  divisions  of  our  subject, 
it  may  be  worth  while  here  to  call  attention  to  one  some- 
what interesting  reflection  that  offers  itself.  We  re- 
marked above ^  that,  in  even  semi-Utopia  perhaps,  the 
effect  of  paying  workers  equally  for  equal  hours  of  labor 
would  be  most  injurious  and  would  inevitably  result  in 
stagnation  or  rapid  retrogression.  Perhaps  it  may  have 
been  thought  that,  in  so  saying,  we  were  overlooking  one 
potent  incentive  to  thoroness  in  working,  that  we  were 
ignoring  "  that  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds  " — the  love 
of  Fame.  Now,  it  is  precisely  regai'ding  this  love  of 
Fame  that  it  seems  desirable  to  say  a  few  words. 

'  See  p.  97. 
log 


Iio  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory. 

We  are  very  stronirly  inclined  to  think  that,  as  man- 
kind approaches  perfection,  the  love  of  and  regard  for 
Fame  of  any  sort,  kind  or  condition  will  disappear, 
inasmuch  as — essentially — regard  for  Fame  is  incompat- 
ible with  Perfect  Love  :  the  more  pure  therefor  grows 
our  love  for  our  fellows,  the  more  distasteful  will  Fame 
— anti-Love — become  to  us.  The  psychology  of  Fame- 
hunger  is  very  peculiar.  "  Fame  is  Love  disguised," 
sang  Shelley  ;  and  so  in  one  sense  it  is  ;  but  this  does  not, 
we  think,  affect  our  conclusion.  As  we  have  elsewhere 
pointed  out,^  the  essence  of  Fame-quest  is  to  be  sought 
in  the  strife-dement  still  latent — or  rampant  —  in  "civil- 
ised "  man. 

The  Love  accorded  to  famous  men  by  their  fellows  may 
in  some  cases  perhaps  be  pure  :  but  usually  it  is  probably 
clouded  either  by  some  form  of  that  fear  which  "  Perfect 
Love  casteth  out — for  in  Perfect  Love  there  is  no  Fear  " 
— or  (and  this  far  more  probably)  by  the  most  natural, 
scarce  avoidable,  taint  of  envy.  But  however  this  be — 
and  tho  in  this  sense  Fame  be  Love  disguised  (Fame  being 
here  used  as  equivalent  to  the  homai^e  of  man),  this  is 
not  exactly  that  wherewith  we  are  concerned  :  it  is  not 

'  The  essay  referred  to  has,  however,  not  yet  been  published. 
Shortly  after  the  MS.  of  this  essay  had  been  written  out,  we  had 
occasion  to  turn  up  to  an  old  Coniinonplace-Book  for  some  refer- 
ences, and  came  across  the  following  extract  from  Bacon — made 
some  years  previously: — "The  delight  which  men  have  in 
popularity,  fame,  honour,  submission,  and  subjection  of  men^a 
minds,  ici/ls,  and  affections,  seemeth  to  be  a  thing  in  itself  without 
contemplation  of  consequences,  grateful  and  agreeable  to  the 
Nature  of  Man.  .  .  .  The  best  temper  of  minds  desireth  good 
name  and  true  honour  ;  the  lighter,  popularity  and  applause  ; 
the  depraved,  subjection  and  tyranny." 


On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory.  1 1 1 

with  Fame  as  Homage  rendered  to  another,  but  with 
Fame  as  sought  for  oneself,  that  we  have  to  do  ;  for  it  is 
here  that  the  strife-factor,  the  anti-loveliness  of  Fame, 
becomes  apparent. 

What  is  the  desire  for  Fame  :  what  but  the  desire  for 
Pre-eminence,  for  distinction  heyo7id  one's  fellows,  for 
Victory  over  others :  here  truly  we  have  the  strife- 
element  rampant.  Of  course  one  must  admit  that 
tliere  are  varied  decrees  of  purity  in  Fame-seeking ;  from 
that  yearning  of  the  lonely  scholar  or  poet  who  longs  to 
make  his  thoughts  and  projects  known  to  others,  and  to 
feel  that  thousands  of  his  fellows  sympathise  with  him 
and  share  his  thoughts  and  aspirations — from  this,  which 
is  probably  the  purest,  but  not  an  all-jmre,  form  of  Fame- 
seeking;  thro  that  form  in  which  Fame  of  any  sort,  no 
matter  what,  is  sought  merely  to  gratify  a  personal 
vanity — a  vanity  which  is  rejoiced  to  hear  "  there  goes 
that  Demosthenes  "  ;  down  to  the  impnrest  form  in  which 
the  would-be-famous  yearns  to  be  the  one  unrivalled 
greatest  man  of  his  day — the  Pre-eminent,  intolerant  of 
every  neighbor  to  his  throne  :  and  this  is  the  typical 
case,  wherein  one  perceives  clearly  enough  the  strife- 
element,  the  unsocial,  the  anti-love-like,  character  of 
Fame.  We  do  not  deny  that,  in  so  far  as  Fame-seeking 
be  a  desire  for  the  love  and  approbation  of  our  fellows. 
Fame  is  Love  disguised ;  but  we  contend  that  this  ele- 
ment is  altogether  subordinated  to  and  masked  by  the 
strife-element,  the  desire  for  pre-eminence  and  distinction 
above  our  fellotvs. 

With  the  mutual  hatred  and  jealousy  of  two  suitors  to 
the  same  woman  there   is  avowedly  a  very  strong  love- 


1 1 2  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory. 

element,  bomul  up  :  but  wlio  will  deny  that  the  rivalry 
and  jealousy  are  unlovely,  unsocial,  and  inconsonant 
with  a  high  social  state  %  Even  so  it  is — but  more 
markedly — with  Fame-seeking :  all  Fame-seeking  in- 
volves rivalry  :  there  may  be  a  love-element  in  so  far  as 
we  desire  the  approval  of  the  multitude ;  but  there  is  a 
strong  strife-element,  hate-element,  in  so  far  as  we  desire 
this  as  a  distinction  granted  to  but  few — in  so  far  as  we 
desire  pre-eminence  both  over  other  aspirants  for  public 
favor,  and  over  the  general  public  who  bestow  the 
favor.  Anyone  who  doubts  that  Fame-seeking  connotes 
rivalry  and  tacit  strife  with  others,  need  but  ask  himself 
of  what  avail  were  a  distinction  which  everybody 
possessed,  in  order  to  be  answered  and  convinced.  From 
the  ancient  conqueror,  who  enslaved  a  people,  and  fed 
his  proud  heart  witli  the  adulations  and  entreaties  of  a 
fettered  race  that  trembled  before  him  and  acknowledged 
his  prowess  and  victory,  or  from  the  heathen  heroes  who 
contended  as  rivals  in  musical  skill — and  the  loser  was 
slain  hy  the  victor — there  is  a  lineal  descent  to  the 
highbred  cultured  civilized  European  who  joys  to  be 
famous  as  artist,  scientist,  thinker,  or  statesman.  In 
every  case  alike,  victory,  suiieriority,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  defeat,  submission,  inferiority,  on  the  other,  are  in- 
volved. We  think  it  is,  therefor,  scarcely  needful  to 
further  enforce  our  argument  that  Fame  is  incompatible 
with  a  perfect  social  state,  and  that,  as  Utopia  ap- 
proaches, the  regard  for  Fame  will  vanish;  while  we 
may  well  expect  that  even  in  semi-Utopia  Fame  will  be 
very  distasteful  to  men  who  are  learning  to  regard  as 
bad  and  tabooed  every  deed  or  word  that  might  imply 


0)1  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory.  1 1 3 

pain  or  disquiet  to  a  fellow-man,  or  superioriii/  to 
self. 

This  being  admitted,  however,  it  is  somewhat  curious 
to  follow  out  one  or  two  of  the  consequent  results ;  since 
we  are  thus  led  to  conclusions  that  would  hardly  other- 
wise have  occurred  to  us. 

Admitting  that  Fame-worship  will  disappear  (which 
implies  that  not  only  will  men  no  longer  be  so  unsocial 
as  to  seek  for  Fame,  but  also  that  they  would  be  posi- 
tively pained  to  wake  \ip  and  find  themselves  famous — 
since  this  connotes  pain,  actual  or  potential,  to  others — 
we  seem  then  compelled  to  infer  that  in  Utopia  (if  not 
before)  all  books  that  are  published,  all  poetrj-,  all  music, 
all  scientific  discovery^  all  research,  all  painting,  will  be 
anonymous :  for  to  publish  in  one's  own  name  a  great 
poem,  or  a  grand  discovery,  were  to  seize  on  Fame  and 
to  mark  oneself  as  a  man  out  of  the  common,  a  man  who 
is  pre-eminent  above  his  fellows.  But  this  were  intoler- 
able to  an  Utopian  who  will  be  too  loving  and  gentle  to 
stand  upon  a  pinnacle  built  up  of  his  fellows'  deficiencies. 
To  the  Utopian  it  were  more  than  sufficient  reward,  it 
were  a  chiefest  joy,  to  know  that  he  had  been  the  means 
of  advancing  human  happiness  or  human  knowledge :  he 
will  desire  no  acclamations  in  life,  neither  will  he  permit 
undying  commemoration  after  death  ;  for  since  such  indi- 
vidual commemoration  is  impossible  for  the  majority, 
why  should  he  seek  for,  or  accept,  a  distinction  that  at 
once  assigns  him  a  pre-eminence  above  his  fellows  1  And, 
paradoxical  tho  it  at  first  may  seem,  this  view  is  pro- 
bably alone  right.  Could  you  object  to  him  that  it  is 
mireasonable  and  ungrateful  for  the  world  to  forget  its 


1 1 4  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory. 

benefactors,  he  would  justly  reply  that  no  shadow  of 
credit  attaches  to  him  for  having  been  gifted  by  Nature 
with  unusually  fine  brain-power,  and  rare  talents.  If 
any  credit  belongs  anywhere  it  belongs  to  far  back  un- 
known ancestors  wlio  each,  little  by  little,  helped  to 
mould  his  brain  :  nay,  if  he  were  a  thoro  Weismannite, 
he  would  rather  refer  the  chief  credit  to  climatic,  nutri- 
tive, photntactic,  and  similar,  influences,  acting  on  the 
primeval  protozoa!  But,  as  for  him,  what  possible 
credit  can  reflect  on  him  for  simply  using  those  Nature- 
implanted  brain-tools,  which  not  to  use  were  arrant  sin, 
and  a  functional  impossibility  besides?  Is  any  credit 
given  to  the  ^■Eolian  Harp  because  it  resounds  when  the 
wind  sweeps  along  its  strings? 

And  thus  it  would  seem  that  in  Utopia  all  intellectual 
work  will  be — so  far  as  possible — anonymous,  and  will 
go  down  to  later  ages,  not  as  the  poetry  of  Tennyson, 
the  music  of  Chopin,  the  painting  of  Turner,  the  dis- 
coveries of  Darwin,  the  thought  of  Spencer,  but  as  the 
collective  spoils  of  humanity.  If  this  be  so,  biographical 
dictionaries  and  obituary  memoirs  will  be  imknown  to 
Utopians,  who  would  wonder  at  the  incredible  selfishness 
of  men  who  could  allow  their  (nature-given)  genius  to 
be  commemonited  and  enshrined  in  history,  while  999 
fellowmen  in  every  1,000  live  and  die  unknown : 
Utopians  could  not  tolerate  such  unsocial,  unlovable, 
fame.  So  too  statues,  portraits,  and  pictures,  as  com- 
memorations, will  lose  their  value  to  a  race  who  love  all 
humanity  so  much  that  they  would  not  insult  it  by 
cherishing  one  individual's  name  to  the  exclusion  of 
thousands  of  his  fellows  :  and  it  is  open  to  us  to  specu- 


On  FaiiiCf  Honor,  and  Glory.  \  1 5 

late  whether  they  will  not — on  principle — wilfully  de- 
stroy every  shred  of  biographical  information,  retaining, 
of  course,  the  psychological  studies  the  the  actual  names 
be  lost,  and  take  steps  to  ensure  that  the  names  of  all 
precedent  immortals  are  erased  !  They  will  insist  that 
they  shall  delight  not  in  Slielley's  poetry,  Chopin's 
music,  Darwin's  theories,  Berkeley's  philosophy,  but  in 
the  grand  stream  of  knowledge  and  art  that  has  flowed 
down  to  humanity  from  an  older  humanity.  To  such 
Utopians  Positivist  calendars  will  be,  indeed,  a  strange 
fantasy :  and  here,  the  conclusions  as  to  the  standpoint 
of  Utopians,  to  which  we  have  been  led  by  no  positivist 
leanings,  but  by  simply  deducing  necessary  conclusions 
from — what  seem — probable  data,  approximate  very 
closely  to  Comte's  views  on  the  celebration  and  worship  of 
collective  hunianity — 

"Thus  the  hidiviilual  withers;  and  the  world  is  more  and  more.' 

After  this  it  is  but  a  very  small  thing  to  point  out 
that,  even  long  before  so  advanced  a  stage  as  that  just 
depicted  is  reached,  all  such  minor  distinctions  as  uni- 
versity-degrees, Fellowships  of  Royal  Societies  and  of 
Royal  Academies,  medals  and  titles,  will  have  been 
abolished.  It  is  however  worth  while  to  bring  this 
category  under  attention  since  many  will  probably  accede 
to  the  proposition  now  advanced,  and  acknowledge  its 
truth  so  far,  who  will  have  been  staggered  by  the  more 
sweeping  conclusions  just  enunciated. 

In  all  probability  it  will  be  readily  granted  that  the 
only  value  of  a  degree,  an  F.R.S.,  or  an  R.A.,  of  a  medal, 


Ii6  On  FaniCy  Honor,  and  Glory. 

or  a  title,  is  that  it  is  something  possessed  hy  only  a  f^w, 
and  therefor  marks  out  its  possessor  as  more  or  less  pre- 
eminent and  distinguished  above  his  fellows.  If  every- 
body possessed  such  degrees  and  distinctions,  no  one 
would  care  a  rap  to  have  them  :  on  the  contrary  one 
sometimes  hears  the  significant  remark  that  it  is  a  greater 
distinction  not  to  possess  a  given  title  than  to  possess  it ; 
which  sufficiently  points  our  moral — that  the  only  value 
of  degrees  and  titles  is  due  to  their  monopoly  by  a  few  : 
they  are  essentially  anti-social,  and  anti-brotherly  :  love 
is  very  much  disguised — disguised  so  thoroly  as  to  be 
transformed — in  such  form  as  this.  Clearly  this  were 
utterly  inconsonant  with  Utopia. 

This  speculation  will  presumably  be  altogether  re- 
pugnant to — as  perhaps  unexpected  by — many  ;  and  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  indignant  protests  being  uttered  against 
such  a  levelling  view.  But  one  caution  may  well  be 
taken  to  heart  by  all  such  objectors.  If  the  argument  be 
sound,  and  this  consummation  of  anonymity  be  veritably 
the  destined  lot  for  by-and-bye,  then  assuredly  it  is 
utterly  useless  to  kick  against  it,  and  object,  and  de- 
nounce this  "  cold-blooded  dispiriting  "  prophecy.  The 
question  is  simply  one  of  fact — of  future  fact  if  you 
like :  eitlier  this  consummation  is  to  be  expected,  or  it  is 
not :  if  the  former,  then  objection  and  denunciation  and 
resistance  are  equally  futile,  and  resignation  to.  this 
death-to-glory  is  as  inevitable  as  resignation  to  individual 
dying ;  but  if  the  latter,  then  denunciation  is  wasted. 

To  show  that  we  are  not  exactly  alone  in  indicating  this 
as  the  probable  direction  along  which  society  will  ad- 
vance, it  is  worth  while   to  quote  a  paragraph  fi'om  M. 


Cn  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory.  W] 

Ribot.  Referring,  in  his  Co7itenipnrary  English  Psycho- 
logy,^ to  the  necessity  for  a  great  mass  of  detail-work  in 
psychological  science,  he  writes,  "  In  this  work  of  detail, 
each  might  sliare  according  to  his  measure  and  strength. 

A  hundred  workers  might  perhaps  wear  out 

themselves  over  one  obscure  point.  What  matter  if  a 
result  be  obtained.  The  science  will  accept  their  work, 
and  forget  their  names." 

Lest  it  should  erroneously  be  supposed  that,  because 
we  are  arguing  for  the  probability  of  this  development, 
therefor  it  is  satisfactory  and  grateful  to  us,  let  us 
frankly  avow  that  such  thoughts  are  apt  to  send  a 
shudder  thro  us,  and  compel  a  despairing  assent  to 
Tennyson's  mournful  cry — 


"  We  pass  :  the  path  that  each  man  trod 
Is  dim, — or  will  be  dim  with  weeds  : 
What  fame  remains  for  human  deeds  ?" 


To  US  personally  it  has  often  seemed  that  his  fa*^e  was 
most  horrible,  whosoever  should  come  upon  this  earth, 
live,  and  die,  and  yet  leave  no  trace  or  mark  behind  him 
—no  "  footprints  on  the  sands  of  time."  To  live  and 
die,  unknown  and  fameless — that  has  ever  seemed  a 
horrible  negation  and  mockery  to  us  who  anticipate  no 
personal  hereafter. 

But,  altho  the  yearning  for  lasting  commemoration, 
which  prompted  Tennyson's  lament,  and  which  equally 
repels  us  with  a  shuddering  horror  from  the  picture  of 
men  laboring  at  new  discoveries  and  new  thoughts,  but 

'  English  translation,  p.  .33. 


1 1 8  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory. 

yet  for  ever  unknown  and  unackno\vled<;;ed  as  their 
author,  and  from  the  picture  of  a  dead  level  of  privacy 
whence  tower  up  no  "  celebrities,"  and  gleaming  with  no 
sparkles  of  fame-light — altlio  this  be  most  natural  and 
inborn  in  each  of  us,  and  the  consequent  resentment  and 
opposition  almost  as  innocent  as  they  are  intelligible,  yet 
not  only,  if  the  picture  be  truly  drawn,  is  this  resentment 
useless,  but  we  think  that  deeper  reflection  must  show 
the  (assumed)  Utopian  state  to  be,  on  the  whole,  the 
best  possible.  That  it  is  profoundly  m  mrnful  we  do  not 
for  a  moment  deny  ;  we  are  in  hearty  sympathy  with — 
for  we  ourself  have  shared  in — that  passionate  anguish 
aroused  by  the  steady  conviction  that  not  even  in  the 
sense  of  fame  is  there  any  immortality  for  tiie  individual ; 
timt  ever 

"  The  iiulividiial  witliers  anil  the  world  is  more  and  more." 

We  are  no  whit  concerned  to  prove  that  this  is  abso- 
lutely good  and  just — for  we  deem  it  to  be,  like  most 
other  worldly  institutions,  hateful  and  cruel  and  accui'sed : 
but  we  do  think  that  it  is  relatively  the  least  had,  the 
least  wijust.  People  fail  to  see  this  simply  because  they 
regard  tlie  question  from  the  standpoint  of  the  few 
famous  individuals,  instead  of  from  the  platform  occupied 
by  tiie  whole  surging  world  of  humanity.  The  same 
man  who  anathematises  tliis  prophecy  as  cold-blooded 
and  cruel,  and  passionately  asserts  tiiat  ever  as  now  great 
and  good  men  must  and  will  be  famous,  forgets  that  tliis 
present  system,  which  is  so  dear  and  seems  so  good  to 
him,  is  one  which   condemns  to  utter  oblivion  and  uou- 


On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory.  1 1 9 

fame  more  than  999  men  in  every  thousand  in  the  most 
advanced  counti'v :  taking  the  world  we  might  pro- 
bably say  99,999  in  every  100,000  and  be  far  below 
the  mark.  Yet  this  murderous  and  cold-blooded  nega- 
tion-system is  tacitly  or  avowedly  approved  as  very  good : 
whereas  the  procedure  prophesied  for  the  future,  which 
puts  every  man  on  the  same  level  of  oblivion  with  his 
broth erman,  and  ordains  equal  non-fame  for  the  otld 
100,000th  man — this  we  are  to  be  told  is  abominable  1 

However  difficult  for  us,  let  us  strive  to  regard  this 
question  from  the  standpoint  of  a  higher  wisdom,  and 
transcend  the  private  cares  and  turmoils  of  our  little  life. 
Is  it  not  on  the  whole  the  best — or  the  least  worst — that 
all  men,  having  deserved  alike,  should  share  alike  ;  and 
that  the  immortality  of  fame — no  less  than  the  renown 
of  today — inexorably  denied  to  the  thousands,  should 
equally  be  denied  to  the  units  %  At  least  then  we  are  all 
brothers  in  a  common  misfortune.  The  trouble  is  that 
we  of  to-day  are  trying  to  judge  a  more  or  less  Utopian 
state  with  very  non-Utopian  eyes  :  and  our  vision  is  alto- 
gether blurred  by  the  motes  of  selfishness — and  we  are 
not  using  the  word  with  any  specially  bad  connotation, 
but  simply  to  denote  a  certain  selfward  regard  that  will 
disappear  in  the  distant  future.  We  must  strive  to 
understand  that,  to  a  very  highly  developed  man,  it 
would  be  an  intolerable  reflection  that  he  was  to  be  ele- 
vated— thro  no  real  deserts  of  his  own,  or  ill  deserts  of 
their  own — to  a  pinnacle  of  glory  and  fame  hopelessly 
denied  to  his  fellows.  In  Utopia,  it  is  the  quasi-famous  men 
who  will  insist  on  abolishing  fame  :  not  the  mass,  jealous 
and  envious  of  a  distinction  denied  to  them — for  envy 


I20  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory. 

and  jealousy  are  iucompatiLie  with  Utopia — but  the  dis- 
tinguished few  who  will  refuse  to  accept  a  di.'^tinction 
that  their  fellows  cannot  share. 

"But" — conies  the  indignant  rejoinder — "3'ou  are  ignor- 
ing the  one  salient  point  of  difference.  You  are  ignoring 
— or  rather  flatly  denying — that  there  is  any  difference 
of  deserts  :  whei'eas  it  is  precisely  because  they  have  de- 
served it  that  our  great  geniuses  should  inherit  immortal 
fame." 

But  this  very  plausible  defence  were  really  quite 
beside  the  mark ;  for  "  desert  "  has  a  double  meaning. 
In  the  lax  and  popular  sense,  no  question  but  Genius 
does  deserve  fame  ;  but  we  have  only  to  go  one  step 
further  to  see  this  desert  vanish.  We  have  but  to  ask, 
"  Could  Genius,  if  it  would,  be  not-Genius  :  and  could 
mediocrity  or  stupidity,  tho  it  struggled  ever  so  earnestly, 
be  Genius " — to  see  the  inevitable  answer.  Genius  is 
Genius  simply  in  virtue  of  the  possession  of  certain 
brains — with  the  preparation  of  which  Genius  had  no 
more  to  do  than  had  the  Man  in  the  Moon  :  all  that 
Genius  does  is  to  use  those  brains  which  constitute 
Genius  :  not  to  use  which  were  almost  criminal — besides 
being  impossible — for  Genius,  like  Murder,  will  out :  and 
to  use  which  is  a  highest  pleasure,  and  in  no  sense,  there- 
for, morally  ''  creditable  " — especially  to  an  Utopian. 

It  is  plain  then  that  whoso  approves  the  present 
system  constructively  declares  that  it  is  highly  desirable, 
and  very  just,  to  confer  immortality  upon  a  given  man, 
because  his  parents,  grandparents,  great-grandparents,  and 
others,  have  bequeathed  to  him  a  most  magnificent 
brain  :  whilst   it  is  equally  just  to  consign  to  oblivion 


On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory.  121 

both  such  ancestors  and  the  majority  of  men  whose 
ancestors  have  not  so  endowed  them.  To  cut  away  the 
last  support  we  will  add  that  the  popular  definition 
which  declares  Genius  to  be  "  an  infinite  capacity  for 
taking  pains,"  however  admirable  and  commendable  as  a 
moral  maxim,  is  hopelessly  false  as  a  scientific  statement. 
Genius  is  something  inborn,  inherent,  inherited,  and  is 
mit,  nor  ever  will  be,  a  product  of  "  painstaking."  1 

If  the  whole  question  be  regarded  from  this  stand- 
point, it  seems  to  us  that  one  will  be  a  good  deal  more 
reconciled  to  what  is  anyhow  probably  inevitable.  As  it 
is  necessary  so  constantly  to  remark  in  striving  to  sketch 
the  outlines  of  an  Utopian  society,  ont  tuust  ahvav&  choose 
the  lesser  evil. 


APPEI^BIX. 

The  following  passage,  which  we  have  hit  upon  in  Galton's 
Hertditary  Genius,  seems  pertinent  to  this  discussion. 

"The  fact  of  a  person's  name  being  associated  with  some  one 
striking  scientific  discovery  helps  enormously,  but  often  unduly, 
to  prolong  his  reputation  to  after-ages.  It  is  notorious  that  the 
same  discovery  is  frequently  made  simultaneously  and  quite  in- 
dependently by  different  persons.  .  .  .  It  looidd  seem  that  dis- 
coveries are  usually  made  when  the  time  is  ripe  for  them — that  is 
to  say,  when  the  ideas  from  which  they  naturally  flow  are  fer- 
menting in  the  minds  of  many  men.  ...  A  small  accident  will 
often  determine  the  scientific  man  who  shall  first  make  and  pub- 
lish a  new  discovery.     There  are  many  men  who  have  contributed 

^  If  anybody  at  this  close  of  the  nineteenth  century  still  have 
doubts  on  this  point,  he  may  be  strongly  recommended  to  study 
a  certain  golden  book  entitled  Hereditary  Genius,  by  Francis 
Gallon. 


122  On  Fame,  Honor,  and  Glory. 

vast  numbers  of  original  memoirs,  all  of  them  of  some,  many  of 
great,  but  none  of  extraordinary,  importance.  'J  hese  men  have 
the  capacity  of  making  a  striking  discovery,  tho  they  had  not  the 
luck  to  do  so.  This  work  is  valuahle  and  remains,  hut  the  worker 
is  forgotten  "  (p.  185).  It  is  an  old  and  true  proverb  that  Kissing 
goes  by  Jacor. 

Of.  also  Shakspeare. 

"  By  Heaven,  metliinks,  it  were  an  eas}'  leap 

To  pluck  bright  Honor  from  tiie  pale-faced  moon, 
Or  (live  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep. 
Where  fathomline  could  never  touch  the  ground, 
And  pluck  up  drowned  Honor  by  the  locks  : 
So  he,  that  doth  redeem  her  hence,  might  wear 
Without  co-rival  aii  her  diynititn." 


CHATTEn  TX. 

ON    CHOOSING    THE    LEAST    EVIL;   WITH    FURTHFR    REMARKS 
UPON    LUXURY    AND    WASTE. 

"The  whole  art  of  living  consists  in  giving  up  existence  in 
order  to  exist." — Gothe. 

""Love  in  a  cot,  with  water  and  a  crust, 
Is — Love  forgive  us — cinders,  aslies,  dust" — 7s  it? 

"  Cursed  be  the  social  wants  that  sin  against  the  strength  of 
youth  ; 
Cursed  be  the  social  lies  that  warp  us  from  the  living  truth 
Cursed   be   the  hearts  tiiat  err  from  honest   Nature's   kindly- 
rule  ; 
Cursed  be  the  gold  that  gilds  the  straitened  forehead  of  the 
fool." 

Now  this  principle — of  choosing  the  lesser  evil — to  which 
we  have  just  referred,  is  really  invaluable  when  we  wish 
to  construct  an  Utopia  that  shall  be  scientifically  possible 
in  our  "  temperate  "  climate,  and  that  is  not  a  mere  un- 
fettered impracticable  South-Sea-dream.^  The  case  is 
simply  this  :  it  is  given  in  the  definition  .that  in  Utopia 

1  We  take  this  opportunity  to  point  out  that  to  hypothecate 
the  existence  of  any  general  and  world-wide  semi-Utopia  neces- 
sarily implies — as  it  appears  to  us — the  abandonment  of  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  earth's  surface.  We  entirelj'  dissent 
from  the  notion  that  it  is  desirable  to  people  every  land,  and  we 
protest  against  any  population  calculations  based  on  the  sup- 
position that  tlie  humanity-supporting  pov^ers  of  the  world  may 
be  determined  by  allotting  so  many  acres  per  head,  and  then 
dividing  this  number  into  the  acreage  of  dry  land.  We  assert 
12.^ 


124  Luxury  and  Waste. 

all  of  us  are  to  enjoy  the  maximum  possible  happiness : 
now  happiness  is  a  function  of  very  many  factors,  of 
which  Love,  Friends,  Poetry,  Knowledge,  Music,  Art, 
Fine  Scenery,  Travelling,  means  of  Physical  Ptecreation, 
in  addition  to  comfortable  houses  and  clothing,  and  a 
sufficiency  of  plain  and  palatable  food,  are  the  chief. 
Most  of  these  factors  are  again  functions  of  many  sub- 
factors  ;  but — not  to  carry  the  analysis  into  tedious  detail 
— it  may  suffice  to  point  out  that,  to  any  highly-evolved 
beings,   Happiness  depends  in  very  large  measure  upon 

that  since  Utopia  connotes  the  liighesfc  possible  happiness  and 
refinement ,  and  a  life  of  esthetic  grace,  it  is  impossible  to  assign 
as  dwelling-places  for  Utopians  any  parts  of  the  earth's  surface 
that  are  so  situated  as  to  render  refinement  and  comfort  difficult 
or  impossible  :  and  we  are  convinced  that  such  places  as  Iceland, 
Siberia,  much  of  Scandinavia,  Russia,  and  Canada,  etc.,  will  be 
unanimously  deserted  before  semi-Utopia  universally  obtains. 
We  defy  anyone  to  reconcile  an  Utopian  life  with  the  prolonged 
cold  of  tliese  regions  ;  and  we  feel  no  doubt  that  in  Utopia  a 
large  part  of  the  earth's  surface  will  be  permanently  wild  and 
deserted — ^except  that  tourists  will  visit  it  in  the  summer  season 
— just  as  many  Alpine  tracts  are  deserted,  except  for  a 
few  montiis  in  tiie  3'ear.  We  even  doubt — for  our  own  part — 
wiiether  such  high  latitudes  as  Scotland  will  be  permanently 
inhabited  in  Utopian  times — seeing  that  the  Grecian  life  of  briglit 
sunshine,  open-air  living,  light  clothing,  and  abundant  vegetation, 
is  probably  the  physical  type  of  the  coming  age  :  but  still  we 
express  tliis  opinion  only  with  reservation,  since  into  such  pro- 
phecies the  personal  equation  must  enter  largely  :  and  it  is 
possible  that  in  Utopia  many  men  may  enjoy  moderate  cold  just 
as  even  now  we  believe  that  certain  extraordinary  people  enjoy 
a  Scotch  winter,  whilst  to  ourself  the  Equator  or  India  seems 
to  offer  a  climatically  desirable  residence.  But  that  such  miser- 
able  districts  as  Iceland,  Orkney  and  many  other  Scotch  isles — 
we  speak  of  them  as  winter-residences — Siberia,  Northern  Russia, 
etc.,  etc.,  will  be  abandoned,  we  feel  sure;  and,  to  afford  our 
readers  some  notion  of  what  capabilities  Iceland  must  possess  in 
comparison  with  more  temperate  climes,  we  subjoin  an  extraot 


Luxury  and  Waste.  125 

the  possession  of  a  number  of  "  things,"  both  material 
and  immaterial^  which  are  the  products  of  our  complex 
civilisation  :  to  put  it  in  its  briefest  then,  Happiness 
connotes  comparative  wealth  and  leisure  for  all. 

Now  at  present  some  few  of  us  possess  most  of  these 
appliances  to  happiness ;  most  of  us  possess  only  some  ; 
and  a  terribly  large  proportion  possess  practically  none ; 
in  Utopia  all  must  (equally?)  possess  all  such  appliances  : 
and  hence  our  difficulty  in  tracing  the  lines,  along  which 
Utopia  must  be  developed,  arises  from  three  sources : 

(1)  Many  of  the  enjoyments,  or  the  means  of  enjoy- 

from  Mr.  Hutb's  Marriage  of  Xear  Kin  (p.  172).  "They  eat 
their  food  generally  colil,  often  putrid,  and  always  at  irregular 
times.  They  have  no  artificial  means  of  warmth,  and  therefor 
allow  no  ventilation  in  their  miserable  hovels,  which  are  built  of 
damp  earth,  and  where  the  whole  family  remains  huddled  up, 
not  only  at  night,  but  the  greater  part  of  the  day  also,  during 
six  months  in  the  year,  with  their  cattle,  sheep,  dogs,  and  all  the 
live-stock  they  may  happen  to  possess.  Indeed  the  air  in  these 
dwellings  becomes  so  poisonous  from  the  breath  of  the  inmates, 
their  refuse,  and  the  fuel  they  use  composed  of  dung,  rotten 
bones,  and  anything  that  can  be  got  to  burn,  etc.,  etc." 

Can  any  ingenuity  fashion  such  a  hell-bound  island  into  a 
dwelling  for  Utopians  !  On  the  other  hand,  here  is  a  lesson  for 
us  so  civilised  Westerns  to  profit  by — Landor  says,  "  I  have 
often  noticed  how  easily  affected  the  Mikado's  subjects  are  by 
atmospheric  and  geographical  conditions,  and  how,  before  settling 
to  do  their  business,  they  make  a  point  of  finding  some  pleasant 
spot  where  to  cast  anchor,  thinkinr)  more  of  the  amenities  of 
-physical  existence  than  of  the  facilities  for  successful  trade  " 
("  Hairy  Ainu,"  p.  74).     Happy  and  wise  are  they  ! 

(Dr.  A.  Oppel  has  recently  estimated  that  about  1,700,000 
square  miles  of  the  earth's  surface  are  uninhabited  or  ownerless, 
about  5,000,000  square  miles  more  without  settled  government, 
and  the  remaining  45,000,000  square  miles  are  occupied  by 
definite  states— of  which  tlie  eighteen  largest  make  up  87  per 
cent,  of  the  whole  urea  [A^ature,  47/499].) 


126  Luxury  and  Waste. 

nient,  possessed  by  the  happy  ones  of  to-day,  are  citlier 
obtained  at  the  expense  of  sufferhig — not  necessarily 
acute,  but  massive — to  the  workers,  or  else  are  so  ex- 
pensive that  their  universal  possession  equally  by  all 
men  were  an  utter  impossibility ;  the  former  condition 
were  evidently  incompatible  with  Utopia ;  and  the  second 
very  naturally  appears  a  grave  obstacle  to  Utopia — for 
how,  it  will  be  asked,  could  any  of  us  be  happy  without 
all  these  pleasuve-ai:)pliances  ;  whilst  evidently  mankind 
at  large  can  never  be  expected  to  enjoy  them  ! 

(2)  Wealthiness  is  a  comparative  term,  and  is  partly  a 
function  of  the  purchasing  power  of  money  :  now  the 
man  of  to-day,  possessing  £1,000  per  year,  may  be  con- 
sidered enviably  comfortable  ;  but  his  comfort,  depend- 
ing— as  it  does — on  what  his  £1,000  will  buy,  really 
depends  ultimately  upon  the  fact  that  multitudes  of 
workmen  are  paid  only  £60-70-80-100  per  year — happi- 
ness therefor  being  acquired  for  the  few  at  the  expense 
of  the  many.  How  then  can  one  bring  about  an  Utopia 
where  all  shall  enjoy  as  much  happiness  (in  so  far  as 
happiness  be  a  function  of  purchasing  power)  as  is  at 
present  enjoyed  by,  e  ff.,  the  thousandaire  ? 

(3)  Utopia  connotes  not  only  sufficient  wealth,  but 
also  abundant  leisure,  for  all  :  but  to  make  this  latter 
condition  is  practically — it  may  be  thought — to  reduce 
the  wealth-making  labor  of  the  world  to  one-half  or 
one-third  of  its  present  amount,  thereby  rendering  the 
solution  of  the  two  previous  difficulties  exactly  twice  or 
thrice  as  difficult. 

Now  in  reply  to  these  difficulties  we  have  to  nr^e 
several  considerations;  and,  with  regard  to   number    '6, 


Luxury  and  Waste.  127 

we  will  forestall  its  due  turn  in  so  far  as  to  at  once  point 
out  that  this  diminution  will  be  moi*e  or  less  compensated 
by  the  abolition  of  stupid  and  useless  luxuries,  and  by 
the  scientifically  inspired  saving  of  wealth  at  present 
wasted — as  we  are  about  to  point  out  in  some  detail — and 
also  by  the  drafting  off  of  tens  of  thousands  of  at  present 
entirely  unproductive  consumers  into  the  ranks  of  the 
wealth-creators — a  consideration  which  we  have  already 
had  occasion  to  emphasise, '^  and  must  return  to  again  pre- 
sently. Here  it  will  be  sufficient  to  remark  that  when 
the  million  or  so  unproductive  consumers  who  are  at 
present  kept  at  the  expense  of  the  nation,  that  is  to  say, 
of  the  workers,  come  to  be  employed  in  creating  wealth 
themselves,  then  the  wealth  of  each  worker  will  be  prac- 
tically increased,  in  so  far  as  he  no  longer  has  to  keep, 
in  addition  to  himself  and  his  own  family,  one-seventh  or 
more  of  another  man  and  his  family,"  as  is  at  present  the 
case ;  whilst  he  will  further  gain  positively  to  some  ex- 
tent in  so  far  as  the  labors  of  these  new  workers  may 
greatly  increase  the  general  national  wealth. 

To  procede,  we  may  perhaps  fairly  expect  that  there 
are  yet  to  come  many  ingenious  inventions  which  may 
materially  increase  the  wealth  of  the  world  ;  either  posi- 
tively by  creating  new  and  at  present  unsuspected 
sources  of  wealth,  or  negatively  by  cheapening  the  pro- 
cesses already  in  use,  and  by  utilising  the  immense 
amount  of  wealth  that  is  at  present  annually  wasted 
owing  to   imperfect  processes,   etc. :  the  history  of  bye- 

'  See  chapter  iii. 

-  See  details  and  statistics  in  chapter  x.  :  all  over  twenty  are 
reckoned  as  workers  hi  this  calculatiou. 


128  Luxury  ami  Waste. 

products  in  the  chemical  trade  is  a  lasting  monument  to 
the  ability  of  scientific  discovery  to  save  otherwise- 
squandered  wealth. 

To  take  one  example — if  the  present  wasteful,  dirty, 
and  stupid,  practice  of  burning  coal  as  fuel  could  be 
superseded  by  the  use  of  coke  or  gas,  there  would  not  only 
be  an  end  to  that  terrible  infliction — the  London  Fog — 
but  such  an  annual  saving  of  wealth  as  will  pn)bably 
astonish  our  readers.  Mr.  Irvine  has  calculated  that  the 
present  idiotic  system  of  house-warming  pollutes  the  air 
of  London  daily  with  GOO  tons  of  smuts  and  2000  tons  of 
tar  and  other  coal  products.  He  remarks,  "  As  a  chemi- 
cal manufacturer  I  sigh  when  1  think  of  all  the  valuable 
material  lost  to  us,  either  in  the  form  of  wasted  heat- 
producers,  or  valuable  chemical  products  in  the  shape  of 
aniline  colors,  ammonia,  burning-oils,  paraffin-tvax,  print- 
ing-ink, etc.,  which  are  floating  about  in  the  atmosphere, 
veiling  the  sweet  sunlight,  and  choking  the  lungs  of  both 
animal  and  vegetable  life.  Of  course  if  we  could  over- 
come our  sentimental  desire  for  the  cheerful  tho  smoky 
blaze  of  the  coal  tire,  and  burn  carbonised  coal  [coke]  in 
our  grates,  these  solid  liquid  and  gaseous  hydrocarbons 
would  be  saved  and  made  profitable  use  of.  In  this  case 
our  chimneys  might  become  ornaments  to  our  houses, 
while  the  jjroducts  of  combustion  would  pass  from  them 
as  colorless  gases."  ^ 

With  I'cgard  to  the  mere  waste  of  nitrogen,  which 
would  otherwise  appear  as  ammonia  in  the  gas  retorts 
and   be   available    lor    agricultural  purposes,  the  loss  is 

1  We  stronglj'  recommeml  Mr.  Irvine's  admirable  paper  to  tlie 
perusal  of  our  readers  {Chemical  Industry  Journal,  Dec.  1890 


Luxury  and  WiXite.  1 29 

enormous;  and  finally  Mr.  Irvine  quotes  Macauley  as 
estimating,  in  1888,  the  amount  of  coal  annually  wasted 
in  this  country  as  "  45,000,000  tons,  costing  £15,750,000 
at  the  pit's  mouth" :  this  sum,  is  equivalent  to  over  1  per  cent, 
of  the  national  income,  or,  if  we  add  the  expense  of  carriage, 
about  2  per  cent.  Is  not  this  an  appalling  testimony  to 
our  national  wickedness  and  stupidity  in  deliberately 
wasting  our  substance  1  At  present  we  are  simply  throw- 
ing away  in  this  one  form  alone  a  sum  equal  to  one-third 
of  the  hniierial  hudget. 

As  a  parallel  Co  this  we  may  take  the  awful  lesson 
preached  by  our  present  sewage-system.  That  this 
system — which  is  partly  the  expression  of  our  mingled 
incompetence  and  stupidity,  paitly  a  supposedly  "  least 
evil "  safeguard  against  the  barbaric  uncleanliness  of 
certain  classes,  and  partly  the  nemesis  of  our  folly  and 
wickedness  in  crowding  several  million  persons  into  a 
few  square  miles — that  this  wretched  system  involves  ttie 
most  appalling  loaste  is  a  commonplace  among  thinking 
people ;  but  the  extent  of  the  calamity  is  but  little 
realised.  Putting  aside  the  outlay — i.e.,  waste — of  un- 
told millions  sterling  upon  "  main-drainage  systems " 
and  all  their  accessories,  and  putting  aside  too  the  ruin 
of  our  rivers  and  the  conversion  of  "  silver  Thames  "  into 
a  filthy  and  stinking  drain,  let  us  see  what  loss  is  in- 
volved to  agriculture.  Messrs.  Rawson  and  Smithson 
have  recently  calculated  ^  that  the  human  excreta  pro- 
duced in  the  United  Kingdom  would  yield  237,500 
tons   annually   of  dry  solid   matter  worth  no  less   than 

'  Chtmical  Industry  Journcd,  12/997  (Dec.  1893). 


130  Luxury  and  Waste. 

£1,068,750.*  They  point  out  that  "in  order  to  com- 
pensate for  the  mineral  and  nitrogenous  matters  that  are 
taken  from  the  soil  and  subsequently  washed  down  our 
drains  or  otherwise  destroyed,  England  imports  arti- 
ficial manures  to  tlie  vahie  of  from  £2,000,000  to 
£2,500,000  per  annum."  They  add — "  In  China  no- 
thing is  alloived  to  go  to  ivaste  ivhich  might  he  useful  to  the 
soil.  Notwithstanding  its  vast  population,  China  is 
entirely  independent  of  all  otlier  nations,  not  only  for  its 
food-supplies  but  for  the  fertilising  materials  required  by 
the  soil.  Since  England  imports  immense  quantities  of 
wheat  and  flour  and  other  foodstuffs,  if  the  whole  of  the 
excrement  were  returned  to  the  land,  it  naturally  follows 
that  the  soil,  instead  of  becoming  impoverished,  ivould 
yearly  become  richer,  without  the  importation  and  appli- 
cation of  any  foreign  manure."^  Similarly  too  it  has 
been  recently  contended  that  "if  feecal  matter  were  saved 
in  France  to  the  extent  of  only  20  per  cent,  more  than 
is  now  the  case,  that  country  would  not  be  compelled  to 
import  iu  some  years  £2,000,000  worth  of  grain  ;  but 
would,  on  the  contrary,  export  nearly  £2,000,000  worth 
per  annum."  ^ 

Thirdly,  we  have  to  take  into  account  the  fact  that, 

'  This  assumes  that  the  sewage  be  presented  to  the  farmer  "in 
the  state  of  a  concentrated  powdery  manure,"  and  is  based  upon 
an  estimate  of  the  late  Dr.  Voelcker's. 

2  So  that  a  reformed  system  would  rid  us  simultaneously  of 
two  objectionable  features  of  modern  life  —  viz.,  sewage  and 
Nitrate-Kings. 

3  C.  W.  Shepard  in  Journal  of  American  Chemical  Society, 
1893  :  abstracted  in  Chemical  Includry  Journal,  12/1046:  See 
also  an  admirable  paper  on  "The  Conservation  of  Farm-yard 
Manure  "  in  Royal  Ayrictdfural  Society's  Journal,  Dec,  1S93. 


Luxury  and   Waste,  131 

since  as  Utopia,  approaches  lunatics  and  criminals  will 
become  scarce,  we  shall  no  longer  see  men  bringing  into 
the  world  families  of  six  ^ — much  less  eight,  ten,  or  a 
dozen — children.  The  normal  family  will  doubtlessly  be 
far  smaller  than  at  present ;  and  in  any  individual  case 
therefor  a  man  will,  ceteris  paribus,  be  relatively  richer 
then  than  now,  since  his  expenses  will  be  diminished. 
Looked  at  nationally,  a  given  amount  of  wealth  will  be 
shared  among  fewer  consumers.^ 

We  may  also  add  here,  in  addition  to  what  we  have 
just  said  regarding  the  prevention  of  waste  by  the 
utilisation  of  bye-products,  and  to  what  we  are  about  to 
say  regai'ding  luxviries  in  detail,  that  an  enormous 
amount  of  wealth  must  be  annunlly  wasted  by  sheer  un- 
thrift  or  criminal  carelessness  of  little  things.  Altho 
highly  necessary  to  salvation,  one  canon,  least  of  all 
understood  or  realised  by  the  community  at  large,  is  the 
downright  wickedness  of  ivaste.     Let  us  take  one  or  two 

'  Unless  in  the  case  of  geniuses  whose  breed  it  is  desirable  to 
rapidly  increase      (See  note  to  p.  52.) 

-  This  must  not  be  confused  with  a  different  question,  viz., 
that  (in  countries  not  overstocked)  the  more  workers  there  are, 
the  more  wealthy  becomes  the  country.  The  expense  of  children 
is  incurred  during  their  infancy  when  they  are  not  workers  : 
when  they  become  of  working — i.p.,  self-supporting — age  they 
pass  from  oar  consideration.  Taking  the  state  of  things  at  tijs 
present  day  it  is  clear  that,  if  families  were  halved,  or  reduced 
2-thirds,  all  round,  every  pater-familias  would  be  made  relatively 
considerably  richer  :  his  expenses  would  be  lessened  ;  and — far 
less  national  wealth  being  eaten  and  otherwise  used  up  by  these 
children — there  would  be  a  national  gain  in  addition,  that  is  to 
say,  finally,  more  wealth  for  distribution  to  each  citizen.  (Note 
that  in  this  calculation  a  large  number  of  adult  women  must  be 
included  as  "  clukU'cn  " — tiie  unmarried  unemployed  (luuta  to 
wit.) 


132  Luxury  and  Waste. 

examples  only.  How  much  paper  is  annually  burnt 
or  otherwise  destroyed  as  sheer  wa&te—'Si%  tho  it 
possessed  no  value  at  all  !  So  little  realised  are  the 
canons  of  social  economy  that  people  who — as,  e.g., 
Darwin  and  Pope — oliject  to  waste,  and  insist  on  utilising 
half  sheets  of  paper  or  backs  of  envelopes,  are  either 
cliafFed  as  crotchety  or  stigmatised  as  parsimonious ! 
A  few  comparatively  thrifty  people,  it  is  true,  make 
a  practice  of  collecting  the  waste-paper  of  the  household 
into  sricks,  and  periodically  selling  it  to  the  paper- 
makers  ;  but  their  number,  we  fear,  is  very  small.  Tbe 
amount  of  paper  that  is  devoted  to  sheer  waste,  as  e.g., 
by  being  "  thrown  on  the  fire,"  must  reach  a  gigantic 
annual  total :  and  yet — as  a  thoughtful  friend  connected 
with  a  paper-making  firm  once  said  to  us — if  one  con- 
siders the  amount  of  paper  tlmt  is  annually  required  for 
the  millions  and  millions  of  newspapers  alone,  one  must 
wonder  how  the  continuous  demand  is  to  be  supplied. 
This  is  only  one  more  example  of  the  curse  that  gi-eat 
wealth  may  prove  to  be  to  an  imperfectly  moral  nation 
like  our  own — in  that  it  encourages  ivaste.  As  another 
example,  how  many  people  ever  take  thought  of  the 
enormous  waste  of  wealth  and  labor  involved  in  our 
destruction  of  matchboxes  !  Many  will  laugli  at  us  for 
worrying  about  such  trifles  ;  but  they  are  ill  advi>ed  ; 
for  such  a  laugh  merely  advertises  their  own  profuund 
ignorance,  semi-barbarism,  and — we  say  it  advisedly — 
very  imperfect  morality.  They  are  probably  unaware 
that  the  firm  of  Bryant  &  May  alone  manufacture  about 
500  million  ivooden  matchboxes  anmially,  not  one  of  which 
is  ever  used  for  matches  a  second  time.     Yet  there  is  no 


Luxury  and  Waste.  1 33 

reason  why  these  boxes  should  not  be  used  over  and  over 
again,  had   we   only  enough  sense   and   morality  to  in- 
stitute a  simple  system  of  returning  them  to  the  makers 
or  the  "  hands."     This— be  it  noted— excludes  the  con- 
current waste  on  boxes  for  wax  vestas — of  which  we  have 
no  statistics.     Again    the  actual    waste    both    of   wood, 
and   of  phosphorus   or  other  chemicals,   must  be   some- 
thing   appalling— simply    because     to    half-moral    men 
cheapness    is    a   curse  :    if   matches  were    expensive    we 
should  find  no  trouble  in  reducing  our  use  of  them  to 
a  fifth  or  a  tenth  of  the  number.     As  it  is,  we  might 
abolish,    almost    entirely,    the    waste    of    the    wood    by 
collecting  the    "burnt"  matches   and   sending  them  to 
the    papermakers  as    materials    for   wood-pulp:    but   we 
are  content  to  continue  the    present  wicked   "  .system," 
altho  told  that  Bryant  &  May  alone  manufacture  al)out 
34,000  million  wooden  matches  annually,  besides  about 
4,500,000  "vesuvians  :  "  1  and  that  "for  the  production 
of  wooden  matches,  whole  forests  are  denuded  to  supply 
the  raw  material,   and   Bryant   &  May  are   among  the 
largest  timber  merchants    in  the  world."     Then   again, 
do  any  of  us  realise  the  waste  upon  wax  matches?     The 
same    firm,   we    read,  manuftxcture    900   riiiles   of   these 
daily — which  involves  an  annual  consumption  of  "750 
tons  of  wax  and  over  250  tons  of  cotton."     What  the 
total  waste  of  wax  and  cotton,    by  this  means,    in  the 
United  Kingdom,  may  amount  to,  we  do  not  know  ;  but 

'  Some  being  of  course  for  export :  but  this  ileduction  must 
be  far  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  home-use  of  matches 
made  by  other  firms,  English  and  foreign.  As  to  the  latter,  it 
is  said  that  we  spend  £400,000  annually  upon  imported  matches. 


131-  Luxiuy  and   Waste. 

it  is  certain  that  by  far  tlio  greater  fart  of  this  waste 
might  be  avoided.  We  strike  a  wax-match  to  light 
pipe  or  lamp,  and  then  throw  away  practically  all  the 
cotton  and  wax  :  yet  by  a  -simple  provision  of  "  waste-" 
boxes  in  every  house,  restaurant,  railway  carriage,  and 
street,  all  these  used  matches  might  be  collected  :  the 
wax  could  be  melted  out  of  tliein  and  used  again,  and 
the  cotton,  even  if  useless  to  tlie  match-maker,  would  be 
welcome  to  the  paper-maker.  But  here,  as  everywhere 
else,  we  all  aid  in  the  national  amusement  of  squander- 
ing millions  annually,  and  then  complain  of  the  chronic 
burden  of  pauperism,  and  lament  that  Utopia  remains 
a  mere  dream.  No  wonder  !  Utopia  is  not  likely  to  be 
realised  by  fools  and  sinners,  but  only  by  men  with 
clear  heads  and  sound  hearts.  *■  • 

Finally,  let  us  consider  the  wicked  wa^te  of  tohacco-ash. 
The  annual  consumption  of  tobacco  in  the  United  Kingdom 
now  amounts  to  over  62,000,000  lbs.  The  percentage 
of  potash  (KgO)  in  this  may  be  taken  on  a  very  rough 

1  ^Yo  may  point  ont  tliat,  on  any  theory  of  government,  the 
Legislature  art;  iiiuler  a  moral  obligation  to  discourage  this  terrible 
waste.  So  far  as  concerns  matchboxes,  it  could  remedy  the 
evil  at  once  by  imposing  a  tax  of  Id.  or  2d.  on  each  ntxo  match- 
box. As  a  result,  the  wasteful  manufacture  of  wooden  match- 
boxes would  be  immediately  discontinued,  and  their  place  taken 
by  tin  ones.  For  tliese  the  consumer  would  he  charged  the  price 
of  the  tax  and  the  cost  of  manufacture,  and  allowed  an  equivalent 
rebate  on  returning  them  :  consequently  the  boxes,  like  wine- 
bottles,  would  do  duty  over  and  over  again  ;  and  when  once  a 
sufficient  stock  had  been  made,  practically  no  more  would  be 
required. 

We  have  taken  ro  account  :il>o\-n  of  the  wanton  waste — involved 
in  the  use  of  superHuous  matc'.ies — of  phosphorus  that  would 
otherwise  be  available  tor  agricultural  use. 


Luxury  and   Waste.  135 

average  as  5  per  cent.,  and  this  gives  us  an  annual  xoa^te 
of  3,100,000  lbs  of  an  essential  constituent  of  our  crops. 
Here  again  it  is  plain  that  by  the  mere  provision  of  ash- 
boxes  in  all  our  houses,  hotels,  railway-carriages,  streets, 
etc,  the  whole  of  this  invaluable  manure  might  be  col- 
lected and  saved  ;  ^  for  any  appreciable  quantities  of  it 
the  farmers  would  be  willing  to  pay  a  fair  price ;  and, 
even  if  they  were  not,  any  man  with  a  grain  of  morality 
would  rather  give  it  to  them  than  let  it  be  wantonly 
wasted. 

Innumerable  further  examples  of  this  wicked  waste,  in 
which  we  all  indulge,  might  easily  be  quoted  )  but,  since 
our  object  is  not  to  compile  a  catalogue,  but  rather  to 
offer  examjjles  and  hints,  we  will  leave  our  readers  to 
exercise  their  brains  and  consciences  for  themselves — 
merely  remarking  that  one  essential  element  in  promoting 
the  advent  of  semi-Utopia  is  the  cultivation  of  thrift, 
both  in  great  things  and  small ;  and  that  in  semi-Utopia 
there  vvill  be  in  every  house  a  "  glory-hole "  full  of 
receptacles  for  every  species  of  "waste,"  whether  paper, 
matches,  tobacco  ash,  or  what  not,  where  this  now-wasted 
wealth  may  accumulate  uutil  there  be  a  sufficient  quan- 
tity for  removal.^ 


'  We  commend  the  hint  to  railway-empluytJs,  who  are  fre- 
quently enthusiastic  gardeners. 

2  We  haVe  said  nothing  of  the  waste  of  gas,  wliether  in  private 
houses,  etc.,  thro  the  sheer  stupidity  of  people  wiio  won't  turn 
down  the  gas  when  leaving  the  room,  or  in  streets  and  elsewhere 
on  the  occasion  of  illuminations  in  honor  of  some  royal  parasite 
or  equally  worthless  person — nor  of  the  waste  of  various  articles 
consigned  to  the  rubbish-heap  On  the  latter  point  we  will 
quote   again   from    Messrs.    Rawson    &   Smithson,  who    tell   us 


136  Luxury  and   Waste. 

Having  thus  accounted  for  a  really  very  considerable 
portion  of  the  wealth  required  hy  Utopia  in  apparent 
excess  of  its  supply,  we  now  have  to  consider  how  far  we  may 
balance  the  remaining  deficit,  i.e.,  increase  the  Utopians' 
wealth  to  any  pitch  required  by  tlie  cnnditions  of  Utopia 
— without  shortening  tlieir  leisure.     Here  it  is  that  we 

(Chemical  Industnj  Journal  12/90S)  that  in  Chelsea,  1000  tons 
of  refuse  (sifted  and  picked  by  boys)  have  yiehled  en  an  average 

Tons. 
Coal  and  coke  (pieces  over  li  inches)  ...  8 

))         ,,  (   >>     under    ,,       ,,   )  ...        799 

Rags,  paper,  string,  etc.,  ...  ...  76 

Vegetable  matter,  ...  ...  ...  44 

Tins,    ...  ...  ...  ..  ...  7 

Iron,    ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  2 

Bones,  ...  ...  ...  ..  5 

Crockery,  ...  ...  ...  ...  5 

Glass 2 

(About  JOOO  unbroken  bottles)  • 

948 

In  other  words  only  5  per  cent,  at  most  of  the  refuse  was 
true  waste  !  What  an  awful  example  of  untlirift  such  facts 
preach  to  us.  Similarly  "  London  "  recently  told  us  that  "  tlie 
bottle  exchange,  which  exists  to  collect  and  return  bottles  to 
their  various  owners,  recovered  no  fewer  than  391,516  dozen 
bottles,  12,568  boxes,  3,572  syphons,  and  112  casks.  Out  of  that 
number  there  came  from  dustyards,  chiefly  in  London,  233,124 
dozen  bottles,  318  boxes,  and  565  syphons.  Previous  to  the 
establishment  of  the  exchange  almost  the  whole  of  this  supply 
from  the  dustyards  was  wasted.  If  it  is  worth  while  conducting 
a  system  for  the  collection  of  bottles,  it  would  certainly  be  to  the 
advantage  of  some  enterprising  person  to  organise  a  system  for 
the  collection  of  one  or  other  of  tlie  various  articles  in  London's 
refuse  which  are  as  yet  practically  untouched."  We  would  ask 
why  so  much  labor  sliould  be  wasted  on  the  filthy  work  of 
picking  refuse-lieaps,  and  why  everj'  householder  should  not  have 
hi.s  "  waste  "  stored  into  several  bins  and  removed  at  intervals. 
We  do  not  yet  understand  the  mondity  of  economy  in  little  things. 


Luxury  mid  Waste.  137 

must  precede  to  apply  our  principle  of  choosing  the  least 
evil. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  there  are  two  methods  by  which 
a  man  may  become  relatively  wealthier,  viz.,  (1)  By  adding 
to  his  actual  wealth;  (2)  by  circumscribing  his  wants. 
Of  two  men  with  equal  incomes,  families,  and  necessary 
house-expenses,  etc.,  clearly  that  one  is  decidedly  and  de- 
servedly the  poorer  who  considers  it  proper  to  keep  a 
couple  of  ridiculous  and  useless  flunkeys,  and  to  drink  cham- 
pagne: the  other,  relatively  to  his  lunatic  neighbor,  increases 
his  wealth  by  discountenancing  such  extravagant  absurd- 
ities. Now  the  question  that  we  have  to  answer  is 
simply  this  :  how  far  are  our  expenses  of  the  present  day 
lumecessarily  high  owing  to  our  consumption,  in  one  sense 
or  another,  of  practicallj'  useless  luxuries — luxuries,  that 
is  to  say,  that  yield  us  no  appreciable  happiness,  or  even 
that  are  distinctly  irksome,  but  yet  are  ordained  by  that 
archfiend  Fashion  ?  At  the  same  time  we  must,  in  accord- 
ance with  our  principle  of  choosing  the  lesser  evil,  call 
especial  attention  to  many  luxuries  that,  we  do  not  deny, 
were  very  tolerably  pleasant  in  themselves  if  they  could 
be  had  for  nothing,  but  are  decidedly  not  ivorth  the  candle 
employed  in  getting  them.  So  far  as  we  can  discover  any 
such  sources  of  ex{)ense — and  they  are  probably  far  more 
numerous  than  one  would  a />?'zoW  anticipate — so  far  may 
we  see  our  way  to  relatively  increasing  our  wealth  without 
extra  work. 

Now,  as  exemplifying  these  stupid  and  unnecessary  ex- 
penses, the  maintenance  of  large  staffs  of  servants  has 
already  been  several  times  alluded  to :  here  is  a  luxury 
that — prompted  as  it  is  in  large  measure  by  a  mere  vulgar 
10 


138  Luxury  and   Waste. 

love  of  pompous  display — is  doomed  to  go.  Nowadays — 
when  reasonable  people  are  still  excedingly  scaice — it  may 
be  thought  only  a  right  and  dignified  proceding  that  a 
gentleman,  taking  riding  exercise,  should  be  followed,  at 
a  "respectful  "  distance,  by  a  groom — not  for  companion- 
ship but  for  display  ;  or  that  an  old  lady,  taking  an  airing 
in  the  Park,  should  be  similarly  followed  by  a  gorgeous 
flunkey  armed  with  an  equally  gorgeous  staff  as  tall  as 
himself;  or  that  the  same  old  lady,  proceding  to  church 
in  order  to  express  in  the  most  solemn  wording  lier  sense 
of  humility,  her  contempt  for  the  pomp  and  vanit}-  of 
the  world,  and  her  acknowledgments  of  human  brother- 
hood, should  be  similarly  escorted  in  high  state  by  the 
flunkey  carrying  her  prayerbook  (!) ;  or  that  another 
estimable  old  lady,  retiring  to  Florence  for  a  few  weeks' 
rustication,  should  be  accompanied  by  a  retinue  of  fifty 
servants  ;  ^  all  such  procedings  may  indeed  be  thougiit 
very  right  and  proper  now  ;  but  in  a  semi-Utopian  age 
they  would  be  scorued  as  contemptible  examples  of  arrant 
stupidity  and  vulgar  snobbishness.  Here  then  is  one 
type  of  luxury  that  may  be  ruthlessly  eliminated  ;  but  we 
have  already  said  so  much  on  the  subject  of  servants 
generally  that  it  is  unnecessaiy  to  go  farther  into  details 
now. 

In  the  very  forefront  of  all  however  we  would  place  the 
wicked  waste  of  wealth  that  is  annually  swallowed  up  by 
the  Augean  stomach  of  mankind  :  and  among  the  very 
first  luxuries  to  go  must  be  the  wines  and  liqueurs,  the 
ridiculous  extravagance  of  hothouse-fruits,  and  all  the 
sickening  extent  of  gorging-material  displayed  at  a  big 

*  See  Daily  Papers,  February,  1893,  d  propos  of  the  Queen's  visit. 


Luxury  and  Waste.  139 

dinner.  It  seems  clear  to  ns  that  a  highly-civilised 
Utopian  society  will  know  as  little  of  such  luxuries  as  do 
we  of  long  jpig. 

Perhaps  however  it  may  be  as  well,  in  order  to  avoid 
misunderstandings,  that  we  should  explain  our  position 
as  to  wine-driuking  somewhat  more  fully.  We  are  in  no 
sense  advocating  Teetotalism  ^^^r  se ;  and  our  argument 
is  addressed  to  all  rational  men  alike,  whether  Teetotalers 
or  not.  It  is  true  that  personally  we  must  rank — tho 
unchartered,  and  much  against  our  physical  inclinations 
— among  the  Teetotalers  ;  since  it  seems  to  us  the  duty  of 
all  for  the  present  to  range  themselves  on  this  side,  in 
order  by  example  and  influence  to  fight  against  our 
country's  awful  curse:  but,  since  before  even  semi-Utopia 
be  reached,  drunkenness  will  have  disappeared,  one  may 
incline  to  doubt  whether  Teetotalism  will  prevail  then, 
and  to  consider  it  probable  that  in  Utopia  all  will  be  moder- 
ate drinkers — alas  for  the  fanatics  !  Tlie  many  esthetic 
advantages  sacrificed  by  Teetotalers — putting  aside  the 
physical  gratification — are  so  clear  that  we  might  well 
hesitate  to  ascribe  Teetotalism,  and  deny  red  wine,  to  an 
arch-esthetic  society  of  too  high  a  moral  development  to 
fear  drunkenness  or  any  excess.  However  this  be,  we 
will  provisionally  concede  that  cheap  beer  and  light  wines 
may  be  moderately  consumed  in  Utopia,  altho  the  subse- 
quent course  of  our  argument  may  tend  to  considerably 
discredit  this  assumption  :  but  we  wish  to  understate 
rather  than  to  overstate  our  case  ;  and,  if  Utopia  must 
after  all  be  ranked  as  practically  Teetotal,  then  is  our 
farther  argument  only  strengthened.  It  seems  certain 
however  that  all — even  moderately — expensive  wines,  all 


140  Luxury  and  Waste. 

except  the  mere  vins  ordinalres,  will  be  unknown — as  we 
will  now  precede  to  show. 

If  this  declaration  raise  an  angry  outcry  that  Utopia 
without  fine  wines  would  be  no  Utopia,  and  that  therefor 
we  are  diminishing  its  happiness  below  that  of  the  present 
day  instead  of  giving  to  all  Utopians  wine  of  the  best,  our 
retort  is  -very  simple.  We  must  reiterate  that  (1)  we 
have  nothing  to  do  with  an  impossible  Utopia  but  only 
with  a  strictly  feasible  one  ;  and  (2)  we  are  depicting  the 
Utopia  not  of  a  privileged  few — a  Greek  aristocracy  sup- 
ported by  a  world  of  slaves — htd  of  the  all ;  and  we  should 
greatly  like  to  know  how  our  objectors  would  propose  to 
give  every  Utopian  abundance  of  expensive  wine  con- 
sistently with  any  scheme  of  short  work-time,  abundant 
leisure,  and  general  affluence,  for  all.  At  present  not  one 
man  in  one  hundred  drinks  choice  wines,  and  yet  the  total 
expense  of  wine-drinking  is  sufficiently  appalling :  what 
will  it  be  if  one  hundred  in  one  hundred  must  be  supplied? 

The  average  man  never  reflects  on  at  all — or  in  the 
least  understands — the  enormous  annual  loss  of  wealth  en- 
tailed by  such  unproductive  consumption.  Thanks  to 
our  venerable  school-system,  which  instructs  boys  in 
athletics,  Latin  verse,  royal  divorce-cases,  and  such-like 
rubbish,  but  steadfastly  refuses  them  the  rudiments  of 
Political  Economy,  the  nation  consists  for  the  most  part 
of  men  who  are  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  fundamental 
principles  on  which  society  hinges  ;  whilst — worst  per- 
haps of  all — they  are  usually  too  pig-headedly  and 
insanely  conceited  of  their  own  vast  superiority,  as  "  men 
of  practical  common-sense,"  to  all  "  mere  theorists,"  to  be 
susceptible  of  any  instruction.    Such  men  are  intellectually 


Luxury  and  Waste.  141 

incapable  of  understanding  that  consumption  of  luxuries 
is  a  purely  unproductive  consumption,  and  that  in  wine- 
drinking  they  are  simply  pouring  so  much  wealth — t.e., 
the  product  of  so  much  human  labor — down  their 
several  and  respective  gullets.  ^  ' 

It  is  sufficient  for  such  men — that  is,  for  the  nation 
generally — that  such  an  industry  as  wine-making  "  em- 
plo3's  many  thousands  of  people " :  and  they  are  too 
ignorant  and  too  stupid  to  see  that,  not  only  is  the 
whole  work  of  these  thousands,  strictly  speaking,  ivasted, 
but  that  they  are  all  of  them  kept  at  the  public  expense. 

When  we  reflect  on  the  immense  area  occupied  by  the 
vines — the  area  in  Europe  alone  being  sufficient  to  raise 
yearly  food  enouc/h  to  support  80,000,000  men  for  a  year  ^ 


'  Thro'out  we  ignore  the  nutritive  vahie  of  wine,  since  the 
amount  of  carbo-hydrates  present  (as  alcohol,  etc.)  can  be  re- 
placed by  bread  or  fat  at  a  mere  fraction  of  the  cost,  and  M'ith 
great  benefit  to  the  digestion. 

"  According  to  a  report  compiled  by  the  French  Statistical 
Bureau,  the  vineyards  of  Europe  cover  22,973,902  acres.  The 
annual  average  production  of  the  European  vineyards  is  put  at 
2,652,300,000  gallons.  Spain  exports  most  wine  (200,000,000), 
but  it  is  chiefly  common  wine,  and  it  is  estimated  at  only 
£12,000,000  ;  while  the  value  of  the  56,000,000  gallons  exported 
from  France  is  put  at  nearly  as  much.  Italy  comes  tliird  with 
exports  of  45,000,000  gallons,  estimated  at  £'-',800,000  ;  while 
Austria  and  Hungary  exported  only  16,500,000  gallons  worth 
£1,720,000.  (The  annual  average  production  of  wine  in  the 
whole  world  during  the  five  years  1886-90  is  estimated  at 
2,811,600,000  gallons.)  Again,  "  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  at 
Rlieims  has  published  the  statistics  of  the  trade  in  champagne 
since  1844.  In  1844-5  the  value  of  the  trade  was  £265,000,  and 
in  the  following  year  it  exceded  £280,000.  In  18(J8-9  it 
amounted  to  nearly  £640,000,  but  fell  to  £360,000  in  1870-1,  and 
then  rose  in  1871-2  to  £800,000.    The  value  in  1872-3  was  £880,000, 


142  Luxury  and   Waste. 

—  and  calculate  the  immense  amount  of  capital  and 
labor  so  locked  up,  even  now,  we  shall  be  forced  to  con- 
elude  that,  of  the  two  alternatives,  Toetotalism  is  after 
all  a  far  more  probable  habit  than  costly-wine-drinkinj^  in 
Utopia.  Now,  if  it  should  still  be  contended  that  the 
loss  of  champagne,  hock,  madeira,  and  port,  is  a  distinct 
hedonic  loss,  it  must  suffice  in  I'eply  to  invoke  our 
principle  of  least  evil.      It   were  surely   better  tliat  all 

ami  it  oscillaterl  between  this  55nm  and  CG^O.nnO  until  ISSO  Of>, 
when  it  beciiine  £9.'0,000.  The  li:,'ures  were  £1 ,0:!l,000  in  ISUO-I  : 
£970,000in  1891-2.  Thenuniber  of  botth-susedin  P'rancerosefioin 
2,225,000  in  1844-5  to  4,558,000  in  1891-2;  while  the  number  ex- 
ported rose  during  the  same  period  from  4,380,000  to  16,685,000  " 
(Nature,  47/157,  614).  If  we  calculate,  by  a  process  of  averaging, 
the  value  for  the  23  years  1845-1868,  and  then  a(hl  together  all  tiie 
figures,  we  shall  obtain  approximately  £50  mill  ion  as  the  value  (at 
Rheims — not  to  the  final  purchasers)  of  50  years'  champagne. 
Fifty  million  pounds  for  less  than  fifty  years'  growth  of  one  wine 
in  one  country:  liow  immensely  richer,  therefor,  the  world  woidd 
quickly  become  if  champagne  and  other  such  luxuries  were  dis- 
carded and  their  manufacturers  and  the  land  otherwise  employed  ! 
Referring  back  now  to  the  earlier  extract,  which  gives  us 
23,000,000  acres  of  vineyards,  let  us  see  what  this  means.  To 
make  the  calculation  as  simple  as  possible  we  will  suppose  the 
whole  acreage  to  be  rtclaimcd  from  wine-growing  and  devoted  to 
wheat :  then  assuming  the  average  English  yield  of  30  bushels 
per  acre,  and  that  each  bushel  represents  only  40  lbs.  of  flour, 
then  since  2 "5  lbs.  of  flour  per  day  will  form  a  sufficient  diet 
for  a  man  (less  than  2  lbs.  yield  sufficient  carbo-hydrates,  but 
2"5    is    necessary    for    nitrogenous    fooil)    we    get    tins    result 

/23,000,0'00x30x40\     ,,    ,  ,   ,.  .    ^,,^^    «^  ™,-7/.v„ 

I  — ! ^ 1 — that  a    population    of    over    30  million 

\  2-5x360  /  ^  ^ 

adults  could  be  entirely  supported  by  the  yearly  wheat-produce 
of  the  present  European  vineyards.  Of  course  we  do  not  for  a 
moment  suppose  that  it  would  pay  to  grow  wheat  witlioub 
rotation,  or  that  wheat  could  be  grown  on  all  the  vine-soils  ;  but, 
whatever  crops  were  grown,  the  result,  calculated  in  terms  of 
wheat,  is  that  a  population  of  30  million  adults  could  be  fed  by 
tae  acreage  at  present  wasted  on  this  luxury  of  wiue. 


Luxury  and  Waste.  143 

should  suffer  the  slight — the  very  slight — deprivation 
implied,  than  that,  as  now,  the  indulgence  should  be  con- 
tinued at  so  terrible  an  expense  of  toil  and  treasure. 

Secondly,  we  may  point  out  the  very  important  quali- 
fication that  a  generation,  which  had  never  seen,  tasted, 
or  smelt,  any  alcoholic  drinks — or,  taking  our  qualified 
supposition,  anything  but  vins  ordinaires  and  beer — 
could  suffer  no  possible  unhappiness  thro  the  deprivation 
of  a  physical  pleasure  that  it  had  never  experienced — any 
more  than  our  happiness  is  marred  by  our  inal;ility  to 
obtain  nectar  and  ambrosia. 

No  doubt,  during  the  transition,  those,  who  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  drinking  such  wines,  would  suffer  some- 
what :  but  when  the  Inst  bottles  of  champagne  and 
madeira  had  disappeared  from  the  world,  and  their  last 
surviving  consumers  had  followed  them,  then  all  the 
trouble  would  be  at  an  end  ;  and  semi-Utopia  would  find 
its  wealth  immensely  increased — both  directly  and  in- 
directly— without  any  payment  of  unhappiness  there- 
for.'' Such  considerations  are — as  it  seems  to  us — of 
great  importance  to  the  discussion  of  the  abolition  of  any 
similar  luxuries. 

Thirdly,  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  the  modifica- 
tions impressed  upon  a  progressively  evolving  race  may 
not  improbably  involve  a  continually  lessening  regard  for 
the  merely  sensual  pleasures  of  the  palate,  concomitantly 

■"  There  is  so  little  ideal  perxitfence  in  wine  that  merely  to  read 
of  its  pleasures  would,  we  think,  excite  no  craving  for  it.  As  to 
this,  see  discussion  in  note  on  tobacco,  p.  171,  and  compare  the 
experience  of  reclaimed  drunkards — who  feel  the  temptation 
chiefly  when  they  see  or  taste  wine.  But  one  may  also  remark 
that  chastity  involves  pliysical  denial :  is  ittlierefor  un-Utopian! 


144  Luxury  and  Waste 

with  an  increasing  rcgarl  foi*  intellectual  and  esthetic 
pleasures.  We  can  see,  perhaps,  some  indications  of  the 
same  sort  even  now ;  for  among  ourselves  aldermen, 
liverymen,  and  vestrymen,  are  notoriously  ranked  as  the 
most  contemptible  and  hog-like  members  of  society  ;  and 
it  is  precisely  these  men  who  find  their  chief  happiness 
and  satisfaction  in  guzzling  and  gorging — whilst  the 
cultured  few  regard  them  with  much  the  same  feelings 
of  loathing  and  disgust  as  filled  ^Eneas'  mind  when  he 
beheld  the  harpies'  foul  and  filthy  feasting.^  If,  there- 
for, this  suggestion  be  valid,  our  way  is  made  still 
smoother. 

'  Readers  will  of  course  recall  Tliackeray's  description  of  a 
City  dinner  :  and  we  may  p^-rhaps  sul)j<iin  here  a  cutting  from  a 
recent  paper  chronicling  a  few  days'  City-feeding.  (Star,  Feby. 
1st,  1893.) 

London  gives  a  little  diary  of  City-company  activity  within 

the  last  fortnight  : — 

Wednesday,  1st  Feb. — A  court  dinner  of  the  Worshipful  Leather- 
sellers. 

Tliursday,  2nd — The  Blacksmiths'  Company  dine. 

Friday,  3rd. — Dinner  of  the  Committee  of  the  Cooks'  Company. 

Friday,  3rd. — The  Hoi-ners'  Company  dine. 

Saturdaj',  4th Clockmakers'  Company.  Luncheon  at  Guild- 
hall Tavern. 

Monday,  6tli. — The  Carmen's  Company.  Dinner  at  Cuildhall 
Tavern. 

Monday,  6th. — Bakers'  Livery  met. 

Tuesday,  7th. — Merchant  Tailors'  Company.  Meet  to  admit  the 
Duke  of  York  and  dine. 

Tuesday,  7th. — Butchers'  Company  meet  and  dine. 

Tuesday,  7th. — Coopers'  Company  go  a  coopering  at  the  Hotel 
Metropole.  Business  :  "  One  of  those  recherche  dinners  for 
which  the  Hotel  Metropole  proprietary  is  justly  celebrated." 

Wednesday,  Sth. — Paviors'  Company  dine  together. 

Thursday,  9th. — The  Worshipful  Basket-Makers — none  of  whom 
could  make  a  basket— hold  a  winter  banquet. 


Luxury  and   [Vaste.  j^r 

We  may  next  glance  at  a  few  gastronomic  luxuriea 
other  than  wines:  and,  in  order  to  safe-guard  our 
argument,  both  here  and  hereafter,  from  the  retort  that 
of  course  it  is  easy  enough  to  sketch  an  Utopian  scheme 
giving  comfort  and  wealth  to  all,  if  one  put  the  standard 
of  that  wealth  and  comfort  low  enough  and  premise  a 
Spartan  simplicity  of  life-in  order  to  obviate  this 
danger,  let  us  state  at  once  that  we  do  not  look  to  any 
such  ideal  of  Spartan  or  cynical  simplicity.  It  is  true 
that  one  main  object  of  tiiis  essay  is  to  advocate  an 

Again,  as  another  example  of  this  disgusting  stomach-worship, 
note  the  provision  made  for,  not  feeding  but,  luuieeessarily  stuff- 
ing  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Bebul  (and  others)  that  thronged 
to  the  Imperial  Institute  conversazione  in  1893-  "  Four  hundred 
lady  attendants  will  wait  upon  the  guests,  1000  of  whom  can  be 
suppbed  with  refreshment  every  minute.     To  give  some  idea  of 
the  provision  which  has  been  made  for  accommodating  this  great 
party,  we  n,ay  mention  that  there  have  been  prepared  40  000 
sandwiches   130,000  ices,  tons  of  cakes,  confectionery  crystallised 
fruits,  and  fruits  from  Tasmania  and  South  Australia  (sent  by 
the  respective  Governments),  400  gallons  of  champagne  cup,  and 
600  gallons  of  claret  cup.     It  is  estimated  that  7001b.  of  coffee 
will  be  consumed,  together  with  3001b.  of  tea,  15  cwt   of  butter 
and  scores  and  hundreds  of  apples,  pineapples,  and  every  kind  of 
^•mt.  a  great  deal  of  which  has  been  rec.ned  from  theLws 
Tons  of  strawberries  and  cream  have  been  prepared.     To  meet 
the  great  demand,  there  have  been  laid  in  40,6oO  glasses,  30  000 
cups  and  saucers,  and  30,000  plates  for  san.hviches  and  ices" 
KSiar,    May    17th,    1893).      Yet  again   we   are   told   that  fsOO 
guineas  were  to  be  thrown  away  by  the  City  Corporation  on  a 
rf  ;.j„.rto  the  Duke  of  York,  and  2000  on  a  simikr  tribute  to 
he  Kmg  of  Denmark  just  as,  in  1881,  2000  guineas  were  thrown 
way  in  feting  the  King  of  Greece    (,S7ar,    July,  1893).       Bu^ 
these  Items  are  mere  insignificancies  when  compared  with  the 
g^antic  total  oi  nearly  a  .nUlion  sterlln,  which  we  are  told  t  a^ 
the   twelve  great  Cty-Companies  alone  have  dissipated   in    Un 
y^ar.  on  EntatauunenU  and  m  grants  to  the  Courts  of  Assist" 


146  Luxury  and  Waste. 

earnest  and  beautiful  simplicity/  of  life  ;  but  our  siiuplicity 
is  very  different  from  that  of  Sparta  or  of  the  Cynics — 
as  different  as  is  day  from  night.  For  us,  the  Spartan 
life,  with  its  incessant  hardship,  rigid  discipline,  ceaseless 
governmental  interference,  and  cruel  inhumanity,  its 
narrowness,  bareness,  and  unamiabilitv,  has  none  of  the 
attractions  which  it  has  offered  to  some  foolish  senti- 
mentalists who  profess  to  long  for  such  "  wholesome " 
living:  to  us  Lvcurgean  Sparta  rather  suggests  devildom  ^ 
let  loose  on  a  saturnalia  of  repression  ;  whilst  the  coming 

ants  {Star,  Jan.  15th,  1S94).  The  blood  boils  with  indignation 
to  tliinli  of  the  incalculable  good  that  might  have  been,  and 
bhould  have  been,  wrought  with  the  wealth  that  these  high 
priests  of  sensuality  have  crammed  into  their  own  hog-like 
stomachs.  We  ourself  have  private  information  of  a  certain 
small  City-Company  that  spends  four-fifths  of  its  income  on  two 
half-yearly  banquets — the  tickets  for  which  are  priced  at  Iwo 
guineas  each  ! 

As  one  example  of  the  effects  of  drinking,  this  item  of  news- 
paper intelligence  is  notewortliy  : — 

"  Tiie  Swiss  Feileral  Council  recently  instituted  an  inqnii-y  as 
to  the  best  means  to  be  emploj'ed  for  diminishing  the  con- 
sumption of  spirits,  in  the  course  of  which  it  was  shown  that  the 
population  of  Switzerland,  numbering  2,500,000,  drink  27,000,000 
li.res  of  brandj'  j'early,  the  result  being  that  every  year  tlie 
number  of  men  unfit  for  military  service  increases  ;  that  44  per 
cent,  of  lunatics  have  lost  their  reason  by  the  abuse  of  spirits  ; 
that  of  every  100  criminals  45  are  given  to  drink  ;  that  a  mini- 
mum of  254  deaths  per  annum  are  caused  bj'  alcohol  ;  and  that 
the  great  majority  of  the  suicides — UOO  a  year — are  attributed  to 
the  same  vice." 

In  addition  to  the  moral  and  physical  evils,  what  an  awful 
waste  of  the  means  to  material  happiness  does  this  represent  I 

1  Presumably  the  nearest  modern  parallels  to  the  spirit  of 
Spartan  life  are  offered  by  the  Redskin  savages,  and  the  public- 
Bchuulbuy  savages,  respectively. 


Luxury  and  Waste.  i^y 

life,  that  we  picture,  is  warm,  glowing,  bright,  human, 
cultured,  refined,  beautiful,  and  unrestrained,  beyond 
anything  that  most  of  us  to-day  can  realise.  Yet — tho 
inconceivable,  wnthout  a  thousand  adjuncts  such  as  only 
culture  and  refinement  can  give — it  is  in  one  sense  nobly 
simple — simple  as  devoid  of  stupid  or  useless  excrescences: 
and  we  do  claim  the  right  to  provide  for  its  necessary  ex- 
penses and  its  necessary  leisure  by  abolishing  costly  and 
more  or  less  stupid  luxuries  that  are  most  appreciated  by 
the  leas"^  cultured  members  of  society.  Of  course  we  do 
not  deny  that  very  many  luxuries  are  really  very  plea- 
sant— if  one  could  have  them  for  nothing.  If  cham- 
pagne and  madeira,  winter-pine-apples  and  peaclies,  were 
cheap  as  daisies,  mankind  would  be  very  absurd  not  to 
enjoy  such  delicacies  ;  but  we  do  contend  tliat  since 
these  luxuries  can  be  had  only  at  a  great  expense  of  toil 
and  treasure,  since  the  pleasure  afforded  by  them  is 
essentially  fleeting  and  of  the  moment — the  pleasures  of 
taste  having  least  of  all  our  pleasures  any  ideal  persist- 
ence— since  in  fact  the  consumption  of  such  luxuries 
means  the  mere  emptying  down  our  gullets  of  so  much 
wealth  and  labor  that  would  otherwise — Proteus-like — 
have  appeared  in  the  form  of  esthetic  intellectual  or 
material  gains,  or  prolonged  leisure,  that  si'nce  in  fact  we 
have  to  pav  pretty  heavily  for  such  luxuries,  the  game  is 
most    emphatically   not    worth    the    caudle.^       But    in 

'  One  of  the  most  disgraceful  sides  of  this  stomach-worship  is 
the  malversation  of  trust-tunds  and  endovvinents  to  kitchen- 
expenses  :  see  the  late  review  -  charges  against  Oxford  Uni- 
versity of  crippling  education  by  heavy  disbursements  for  the 
table. 


148  Luxury  aud  Waste. 

addition  to  all  these  table-luxuries,  and  many  others  that 
•were  pleasant  enough  if  they  could  be  had  for  nothing, 
but  are  not  worth  one  hour  per  day's  extra  labor,  and  can 
be  dispensed  with  without  any  discomfort — in  addition 
to  these  there  are  a  multitude  of  downright  stupid  and 
useless  luxuries  which  nobody  really  wants,  but  which  a 
tyrannous  fashion  or  a  snobbish  love  of  display  dictates 
as  "  indispensable  to  every  gentleman's  household  " — to 
which  matters  we  will  return  anon.  In  short  we  contend 
that  the  result  of  the  general  worship  of  luxury  and  dis- 
play is  to  ruin  half  our  happiness — half  our  lives  being 
devoted  to  working  for  things  that  we  don't  want  and 
that  we  are  none  the  really  happier  for  obtaining  :  and 
the  nett  result  of  this  follow-the-bell-wether-like  muuibo- 
jumbo  worship  is — what '] — 

"  That  chasing  drenm^,  that  dreamlike  cVia'sed, 
Thro  lapse  of  years  our  life  doth  icaatt." 

To  conclude  our  gastronomic  survey  however — we  are 
quite  ready  to  admit  of  course  that  in  senii-Uto|)ia  the 
daily  dinners  of  all  will  be  triumphs  of  artistic  and  scien- 
tific effort,  and — to  adopt  the  cook's  jargon  —  pre- 
eminently recherches.  But  it  is  a  morrd  certainty  that 
they  will  not  include  a  dozen  courses,  nor  be  com- 
pounded of  rare  and  expensive  materials.  The  lady  of 
the  future — devoting  somewhat  less  time  to  trumpery 
novels  and  wearisome  fashionable  lounges — will  pride 
herself  on  her  skill  in  devising  a  dinner  fit  for  a  prince 
from  materials  little  costlier  tlian  now  supply  the  food  of 
a  peasant.  In  fact,  here  as  everywhere,  we  must  aim  at 
refined  simiiUcity,  at  skilUd  treatment  of  simjile  material^ 


Luxury  and  Waste.  149 

and  eschew  extravagance  and  vulgar  display.  For  how 
much  frightful  and  criminal  waste  is  not  that  detestable 
custom  responsible  which,  not  content  with  simply 
enjoying  cheap  luxuries  in  their  due  season,  insists  on 
having  the  same  things  as  dear  luxuries  in  their  very 
anti-season ;  which  scorns  strawberries  and  green  peas  in 
summer  at  a  few  pence  per  pound,  but  insists  on  them  in 
midwinter  at  many  shillings  ;i   and  so  on  thro'out. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  indefensible  forms  of  waste, 
and  one  that  cannot  excite  too  much  reprehension : 
however  they  be  obtained,  whether  by  purchase  or  by 
private  rearing,  the  consumption  of  all  such  out-of-season 
fruits  is  a  sinful  waste :  and  we  may  be  verv  sure  that 
the  pineries  "  and  peacheries  of  the  present  are  doomed 
luxuries. 

^  "The  vegetables  called  Peas  were  excedingly  scarce,  and 
cost  '2(Js.  a  (juart.  .  .  .  '  There  are  200  quarts  of  peas,'  said  the 
old  fellow,  winking  with  bloodshot  eyes,  and  a  laugh  that  was 
perfectly  frightful.  And  goodness  gracious — said  I — what  can 
be  the  meaning  of  a  ceremony  so  costly,  so  uncomfortable,  so 
savory,  so  luiwholesome,  as  this  ?  Who  is  called  upon  to  pay 
two  or  three  guineas  for  my  dinner  now  in  this  blessed  year  of 
1847  ?  Are  there  no  poor  :  is  there  no  reason  :  is  this  monstrous 
belly-worship  to  last  for  ever?  "     (Thackeray.) 

-  Mrs.  Fawcett  put  the  point  very  neatly  wlien  she  wrote 
{Political  Economy,  p.  28)  :  "If  two  tons  of  crtals  are  consumed 
in  producing  a  pineapple  in  March,  the  wealth  represented  by 
that  coal  is  wanted,  or  at  any  rate  it  produces  i  nly  the  very 
inadequate  return  of  giving  two  or  three  people  a  pleasant  taste 
in  their  mouths  for  a  few  minutes.  If  the  same  coal  had  been 
used  to  smelt  iron,  or  to  make  gas,  it  would  have  had  a  much 
more  productive  result."  Perhaps  it  may  be  useful  to  those  un- 
ver.sed  in  economics  to  point  out  the  difference  between  the 
reckless  squandering  of  an  individual's  fortune  and  actual  waste  : 
a  man  may  ruin  himself  utterly,  and  yet  he  guilty  of  no  waste; 
whilst  a  rich  man,  livhig  bareiy  up  to  his  income,  may  yet  be 


150  Luxury  and  Waste. 

But  eating  and  drinking  are  far  from  being  the  only 
inediiun  of  waste,  or  the  only  department  where  a  return 
to  far  simpler  living  is  essential :  for  our  national  amuse- 
ments afford  ample  scope  for  reform,  and  imperatively 
demand  some  notice  here.  Englishmen  are  wont  to 
pride  themselves  on  their  pre-eminence  in  sport;  and, 
were  we  polytheists,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
devilgod  of  Sport  would  rank  second  only — if,  indeed, 
second — to  Zeus  :  but  we  think  that  few  men  have  any 
conception  of  the  frightful  was^e  entailed  by  several  of  our 
national  pass-times.  We  propose  here  to  pass  by  all  the 
more  trifling  items,  and  confine  our  attention  to  two 
divisions  only  of  "le  Sport" — viz.,  hunting  and  shooting: 
and  we  tiiink  that  the  unanimous  verdict  of  all  men, 
who  really  care  for  the  progressive  evolution  of  Humanity, 
will  be,  that  in  our  pleasures  as  in  our  feeding  we  must 
aim  at  far  greater  simplicitt/  and  far  less  extravagance. ^ 

guilty  of  frightful  waste.  Waste  is  ineasured  by  the  amount  of 
labor  or  weahli  tliat  you  (directly  or  indirectly)  consume  by 
using  hixuries :  but  expert siveness  may  be  a  function  of  rarity 
also  ;  and  the  mere  transfer  of  wealth,  or  destruction  of  wealth- 
symbols,  involves  no  waste — no  national  loss.  To  give  £.100  for 
an  unique  postage-stamp,  to  lose  a  fortune  at  pitch-and-tnss,  or 
to  light  a  cigar  with  a  bank-note,  may  be  hopelessly  idiotic,  but 
is  not  wa-'^te:  to  give  £5  for  a  hot  le  of  wine  is  waste — for  so 
much  labor  has  been  employed  merely  to  get  a  pleasant  taste 
in  the  mouth  for  a  few  minutes. 

1  A  note  may,  however,  be  added  with  regard  to  Football — 
the  cult  of  which  game  involves  (as  the  Archbishop  of  (Canter- 
bury is  reported  to  have  said — we  know  not  on  what  authority) 
an  annual  cost  of  £1,000,000.  The  author  of  an  article  "On 
Football"  in  the  Fortniyhtlji  Recitiv  for  January,  1S94,  states 
that  "  £200  or  f  250  per  annum  lias  in  many  cases  been  paid  to 
some  particularly  etiicient  plaj'rr  '  ;  and  that  "  the  receipts  of  a 
club  are  very  large,  ptiha^is  12,000  or  £3,000  a  year,  but  the 


Luxury  and  Waste.  151 

With  regard  to  hunting  now  we  will  quote  the  statis- 
tics furnished  by  Lord  Yarborongh.  He  states  that 
there  are  330  packs  of  hounds  in  England,  Scotland, 
and  Ireland :  assuming  the  cost  of  fox-hoinids  to  be 
£650  for  one  day  per  week  per  year,  stag-hounds  to  cost 
■£550,  and  harriers  £200,  keeping  up  hounds  in  the 
United  Kingdom  causes  the  expenditure  of  £114,850  ; 
and  estimating  100  men  Iiunting  with  each  pack,  each 
man  having  three  horses,  that  means  that  99,000  horses 
are  engaged.  Putting  the  cost  of  each  horse  at  15s.  per 
week  this  comes  to  considerably  over  £3,500,000  ! 
Therefor,  as  Lord  Yarborough  maintains,  the  cost  of 
keeping  hounds  and  maintaining  the  hunts  in  the  United 
Kingdom  comes  altogether  to  over  four  millions  (!)  in- 
dependently of  the  expense  of  carriage-horses,  cover- 
hacks,  travelling-expenses,  etc.  Making  certain  allow- 
ances^ it  seems  fair  to  reckon,  on  this  presumably  good 

expenditure  is  almost  always  equally  great.  ...  A  high  autho- 
rity on  football  finance  gives  the  average  wage  of  a  professional 
player  at  £3  a  week  in  winter,  and  £2  a  week  in  summer." 

We  commend  this  article  also  to  those  who  wish  to  realise  the 
social  results  of  this  pernicious  cult,  which  finally  turns  men 
loose  on  the  world  at  30  years  of  age  without  any  craft  or  trade. 
We  are  also  happy  to  find  the  writer  thoroly  at  one  with  ourself 
as  to  the  true,  raiaoii  d'etre  of  foolbull  and  all  other  games  aud 
recreations. 

'  If  we  assume  hunting  to  be  dropped,  it  does  not  follow  that 
a  I  these  horses  would  be  set  free  for  other  work  :  but  if  we 
assume  that  each  (juondam  huntsman  retained  one  of  his  three 
horses  for  rational  use,  this  would  set  free  two,  and  save  about 
2.3  millions  :  adding  to  this  the  cost  of  dogs  we  get  3  millions ; 
then  all  the  incidental  expenses  must  lie  added.  We  presume 
that  the  entire  cost  of  human  labor  uasted  in  supplying  these 
aniusempnts  is  included  in  the  above  calculations  of  Lord 
Yarborou;:h. 


152  Luxury  and  Waste. 

anthoril-y,  that  about  3  millions  are  annually  toas'eil  on 
this  very  selfish  and  destructive  amusement  of  a  very 
few  :  3  millions  yearly — in  good  sooth  here  is  a  doomed 
luxury  !  It  is  clear  that  we  may  appreciably  accelerate 
the  approac'i  of  Utopia  by  abolishing  such  wicked  waste 
as  this — a  waste  the  more  indefensible  in  that  it  involves 
cruel  sufferings  to  dumb  animals,  and  keeps  vigorously 
alive  the  barbarous  instincts  of  mankind  :  it  stands  to 
reason  that  a  fox-hunter,  still  more  a  harrier,  is  by  many 
removes  nearer  to  primitive  savagery  than  is  the  average 
Englishman.  ^ 

^Unhappily,  the  "sporting"  spirit  is  not  only  a  barrier  to 
advance  but  actually  a  cause  of  retrogression.  Fox-hunting  is 
bad  enough  ;  hare-hunting  is  far  worse  ;  but  now  we  have  the 
sickening  practice  of  tame-deer-huuting,  with  all  its  attendant 
brutalities,  blttei  ly  defended  ;  and  a  recent  development  has 
given  us  the  cockney  butchery  of  rabbit-coursing.  We  may  take 
the  opportunity  here  to  protest  against  the  steady  training  of 
Certain  youngsters  in  fox-hunting,  and  tlie  boorish  practice  of 
regarding  that  occupation  as  the  only  serious  business  of  life. 
Here  again  Leech's  cartoons  show  us,  beneath  all  their  humor- 
ous exaggeration,  a  very  striking  picture  of  English  life :  and 
the  knickerbockered  urchin  who  is  galloping  over  ploughed  ground 
because  his  second  pony  is  waiting  for  him  ;  the  "  old  fox- 
hunter,"  aetat  perhaps  ten,  who  finds  Rotten  Row  rather  dull, 
having  been  accustomed  to  go  across  country  all  his  life  ;  the 
enthusiast  of  a  similar  age  who  deems  it  such  a  bore  that  school 
begins  just  as  one's  hunters  are  in  sucli  splendid  condition  ;  no 
less  than  tiie  grown  men  who  get  thro  a  wet  day  by  an  imita- 
tion steeple-chase  in  the  dining-room,  or  by  playing  cat's-cradie 
with  their  cousins,  or  by  functioning  as  Aunt  Sally  to  have  choco- 
late thrown  into  their  mouths  ;  all  these  instances  alike  pieach 
an  eloquent  lesson  against  that  wealth-wasting,  labor- wasting, 
life-wasting,  worship  of  Sport— to  whose  votaries  apparently 
any  kind  of  intellectual  or  esthetical  occupation  is  utterly  im- 
possil)le.     Oil  tempora,  oh  moref ! 

We  subjoin,  as  pertinent  to  this  subject,  a  letter  that  recently 
appeared  in  an  evening  paper — 


Liixiuy  and  Waste.  153 

So  much  for  hunting.  Shooting  entails  a  parallel 
system  of  waste — waste  of  labor  to  a  shocking  extent, 
waste  of  powder  and  shot,  and  waste  of  land  :  whilst  the 
moral  aspect  of  it,  at  least  so  far  as  concerns  the  sense- 
less butchery  of  the  battue,  is,  if  possible,  worse  than 
that  of  hunting — and,  indeed,  one  shudders  to  think  of 
the  suiFerings  of  merely-wounded  birds,  that  linger  on  in 
pain  and  die  slowly  of  starvation  perhaps.  Unfortun- 
ately we  have  no  statistics  to  hand  concerning  the  annual 
outlay  on  this  form  of  waste,  and  can  only  fall  back  on 
the   census,  which  returns  (1881)  the  number  of  game- 

"  HARE- HUNTING    AT    ETON. 
"to  the  editor  of  the  'star.' 

"Sir, — It  may  interest  some  of  your  readers  to  know  that 
while  '  calf-hunting  '  is  in  full  swing  around  the  royal  horough, 
the  youthful  scions  of  aristocracy  are  being  carefully  educated 
in  brutality.  From  the  Eton  Golh<jQ,  Ghronide  of  2  Fel).,  a  paper 
written  by  boys  for  a  schoolboy  puljlic,  it  appears  that  during 
the  week  ending  28  Jan.  the  school  Beagles  were  out  no  less 
than  four  times,  four  out  of  the  six  working  days  being  eitlier 
half  or  whole  holidays  !  We  read  how  a  hare,  after  a  run  of  one 
hour  20  minutes,  '  was  so  stiif  she  couldn't  go  a  yard,  and  was 
pulled  down  ; '  and  again,  in  another  case,  '  we  then  bustled  her 
along  into  Orkney  Cottage  garden,  wliere,  after  being  raced 
round  the  garden,  she  was  killed  in  the  gateway.'  '  ^^'hile  we 
were  breaking  her  up,'  adds  the  youthful  writer,  'another  iiare 
was  viewed  away,'  etc. 

"Now,  sir,  I  would  ask  any  right-minded  person,  is  it  not 
simply  horrible  that  boys  should  be  thus  brought  up  and  en- 
couraged in  brutal  cruelty  by  those  who  are  supposed  to  have 
charge  of  their  moral  welfare?  It  is  well  known  that  hare- 
hunting  is  one  of  the  most  cruel  of  all  sports,  the  heart  of  the 
victim  being  often  burst  by  the  strain  of  panic  and  exertion. 
The  idleness  tolei-ated  by  our  puljlic  school  system  is  sufficiently 
disgraceful,  but  it  is  far  worse  that  organised  inhumanity  should 
be  sanctioned  by  the  school  authorities.  Does  Dr.  Warre,  so 
zealous  for  the  '  manly  training '  of  Englishmen,  regard  this 
11 


154  Luxury  and   Waste. 

keepers  in  England  and  Wales  alone  as  12,000 — an 
astonishing  figure.  The  whole  labor  of  these  12,000 
men  is,  of  course,  utterly  wasted:  like  so  many  other 
luxury-mongers  they  are  simply  kept  at  the  public  ex- 
pense, and  it  is  certain  that  the  abolition  of  the  whole 
12,000  will  be  an  inevitable  item  in  the  preparation  for 
semi-Utopia.  Shooting  then  is  also  a  doomed  luxury  ;  ^ 
and,  like  hunting,  must  be  replaced  by  simpler,  cheaper, 
and  morally  healthier,  amusements — by  boating,  rowing, 
■walking,  riding,  skating,  cricket,  and  a  score  other 
available  recreations. 

There  are  countless  other  devices  of  fashion  and  custom 
for  ensuring  waste  by  frivolous  and  stupid  expenditure, 
at  which  we  can  only  glance.      We  very  greatly  doubt 

cowardly  torture  of  innocent  animals  as  forming  part  of  that 
curriculum  ?" 

The  following  passage  has  come  under  our  notice  just  in  time 
for  insertion  : — 

"It  is  a  result  of  Teutonic  conquest  that  the  landud  gentry  of 
Europe  arc  lai  gely  descended  from  this  race — Goths,  Loinljards, 
Normans,  Franks,  Saxons,  Angles — and  they  preserve  with 
singular  persistency  the  physical  characteristics  and  the  mode  of 
life  of  their  remote  ancestors.  It  is,  as  an  acute  writer  (Hamer- 
ton)  has  remarked,  '  a  strange  result  of  tlie  wealth  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  modern  world  to  give  the  upper  classes  tlie  pursuits 
of  the  savage,  without  the  necessity  whicii  is  the  excuse  for 
them.  They  are  barbarians  armed  with  the  complicated  ap- 
pliances of  civilisation.  Their  greatest  glory  is  to  have  killed  a 
large  quantity  of  big  wild  beasts.  Field-sports  are  good  for 
keeping  up  the  eneigy  of  semi-barharous  aristocracies'"  (Taylor; 
Orighi  of  the  Aryans,  p.  245).  With  every  word  of  this  we  most 
heartily  concur. 

^  Just  as  hunting  gives  us  rabbit-coursing,  so,  too,  shooting 
gives  us  the  cockney  butchery  of  pigeons,  and  of  larks  and  other 
siuL'in','  birds. 


Litxury  and  Waste.  155 

whether  the  Utnpians  will  tolerate  the  professional 
cricketers  who  turn  a  splendid  recreation  into  a  busi- 
ness ;  and  we  are  sure  that  they  would  scorn  the  ab- 
surdity of  sending  teams  of  cricketers  all  over  the  world 
to  play  international  matches,  or  the  parallel  absurdity 
of  allowing  some  scores  of  "  county-cricketers"  to  devote 
their  whole  energies,  summer  after  summer,  to  playing 
cricket  as  the  business  of  life. 

So,  again,  with  dancing.  We  suspect  that  Utopians 
will  greatly  prefer  the  simple  quasi-family  dances  among  a 
score  or  so  of  friends  to  the  waste  and  display  of  a  grand 
public  ball  ;  and  we  are  sure  that  they  would  be  aghast 
equally  at  the  wickedly  wasteful  expense,  and  the  weari- 
some stupidity,  of  fashionable  reciplions  and  routs,  and 
of  royal  drawing-rooms  and  levees.  What  Utopia  would 
say  to  the  crassly  stupid  and  ser.ile  flunkeyism  of  people 
who  waste  several  hundred  pounds  ia  temporarily  "  de- 
corating"—  save  the  mark  —  the  streets  thro  which  a 
serene  highness  ^  is  to  drive,  or  even  iu  the  crowning 
folly  of  the  annual  city-circus  in  honor  of  an  ungram- 
matical  alderman,  can  only  be  surmised  ;  but  it  is  very 
certain  indeed  that  Utopia  will  be  far  too  wise  to  waste 
wealth  and  labor  in  such  fasliion,  and  especially  on  such 
tawdry  tinsel  !  So,  too,  the  coming  age  of  reason  will 
find  it  scarcelv  credible  that  in  the  civilised  and  human- 
ised nineteenth  century,  with   poverty  and  want  crying 

'  From  one  of  Ly ell's  early  letters  it  appears  that  the  educa- 
tional enterprise  of  Oxford  had  been  seriously  crippled  by  the 
enormous  outlay  (reckoned  in  thousands)  devoted  to  the  reception 
of  the  allied  sovereigns  at  Oxford  !  So  that  funds  intended  for 
education  were  utterly  wasted  by  these  lickspittles  in  their  eager 
cringing  before  several  despicable  monarchs- 


156  Luxury  and  Waste. 

out  on  every  side,  and  innumerable  scliemcs  of  philnn- 
thropist3,  educationalists,  and  artists,  languishing  for 
Avant  of  a  few  miserable  thousands,  "  sane  and  sober " 
men  could  waste  millions  on  such  childish,  ephemeral, 
and  objectless,  extravagances  as  international  exhibitions, 
worlds'  fairs,  Watkin  towers,  and  Antwerpian  castles-in- 
the-air — the  nett  result  of  all  which  is  a  vast  squandering 
of  toil  and  treasure  to  gain — truly  speaking — nothing  ! 
These  things  are  the  portentous  visible  signs  of  a  terrible 
and  desperate  social  and  moral  disease.^  These  are 
sights  to  make  the  angels  weep. 

Now,  a  very  great  deal  of  the  pi-esent  waste  is  due  to 
that  snobbish  and  servile  worship  of  fashion,  and  vulgar 
love  of  display,  that  lead  men  into  so  much  wrong-domg. 
Let  us  for  instance  glance  at  dress.  So  far  as  concerns 
men  there  is  not  in  the  present  day  much  waste,  in  all 
conscience  ;  for  men  take  so  great  pains  to  make  their 
dress  hideous  and  absurd  that  there  is  scant  I'oora  left 
for  waste  ;    and  perhaps   the  only  marked  instaiice  of 

'^  The  first  international  exhibition,  we  doubt  not,  was  produc- 
tive of  great  good,  material  and  moral,  and  especially  at  a  time 
when  men  travelled  far  less,  and  were  far  move  foreign  to  each 
other  than  now ;  but  their  constant  repetition  is  absolutely  in- 
excusable. They  may  benefit  certain  individuals  by  increasing 
their  piles  oi  Mthy  lucre,  but  they  wreak  a  terrible  injury  on  the 
world  at  large.  They  may  make  the  rich  richer,  but,  indirectly, 
they  must  make  the  poor  yet  poorer.  It  was  asserted  that  the 
World's  Fair  at  Chicago  cost  seven  million  sterlinrj,  of  which  at 
least  a  million  sterling  was  spent  in  building  a  temporary  suburb 
of  lodging-houses,  etc.  {Daily  News,  23rd  June,  1S93.)  It  would 
be  superfluous  to  point  out  that  all  such  expense,  as  well  as  tlie 
unknown  and  incalculable  expeuses  of  travelling  and  freight, 
involve  an  absolute  loss  of  the  world's  wealth,  however  mucli 
certain  manufacturers  and  restaurateurs  may  have  benefited. 


Luxury  and  Waste.  1 57 

wasteful  expense  in  man's  dress  is  that,  in  deference  to 
an  insane  fashion,  he  buys  a  hard  chimney-pot-hat  which 
is  hideously  ugly,  excedingly  uncomfortable,  and  ab- 
surdly inconsequential,  instead  of — at  a  tenth  of  the 
price — some  light  cap  which  were  excedingly  comfortable 
and  becoming.  At  the  same  time  we  may  express  our 
own  strong  suspicion  that  in  the  esthetic,  rational,  and 
economic,  atmosphere  of  semi-Utopia,  starched  cuffs  and 
collars  may  entirely  disappear,  to  be  replnced  by  some- 
thing far  more  becoming  and  far  less  troublesome.  We 
may  also  point  out  that,  even  now,  a  very  appreciable 
expense  might  be  saved,  and  a  large  amount  of  discom- 
fort and  deformity  avoided,  did  not  a  pigheaded  custom 
absolutely  forbid  us  to  go  barefooted,  no  matter  how 
warm  the  climate  or  how  soft  the  path.  As  it  is,  we  are 
compelled  to  hice  up  our  feet  in  hot  and  heavy  boots, 
endure  much  discomfort — and  p  ly  for  our  suiferings ! 
Often  have  we  envied  the  barefooted  children  of  Scotland 
and  Italy;  and  we  are  sure  that,  before  very  long, 
children  at  least  will  invariably  go  barefooted  in  the 
house  during  mild  weather;  and  we  have  little  doubt 
that  the  nearer  modern  society  approaches  to  the 
Greek  love  of  beauty,  especially  the  beauty  of  humanity, 
the  more  desirous  will  it  be  to  save  our  feet  from  dis- 
tortion, and  the  more  imperatively  will  it  insist  on  every- 
one minding  his  own  business  and  leaving  others  to  mind 
theirs — so  that  if  any  find  it  agreeable  to  walk  about 
London  barefooted,  they  shall  be  free  to  do  so  without 
exciting  the  monkey-grimaces  of  an  ill-bred  brainless 
crowd. 

Nothing  more  painfully  evidences  the  innate  intoler- 


158  Luxury  and   Waste. 

ance  of  mankind  tlian  tlie  insufferable  imperf  inenco  and 
ostentatious  consciousness  of  vast  "  superiority  "  winch 
they  display  towards  those  who  wear  an  unconventioua 
dress ;  and  no  sadder  proof  could  be  asked  of  the  rarity, 
in  England  anyhow,  of  good  breeding  and  politeness, 
than  the  fact  that  no  one  can  publicly  wear  a  somewhat 
unconventional  costume  without  running  the  gauntlet  of 
barely  veiled  or  overt  insults  from,  not  merely  ill- 
mannered  servant-girls,  street  boys,  and  loose  women,  but 
also  from  "educated"  and  "respectable"  self-styled 
ladies  and  gentlemen.  Recognising,  as  one  must,  that 
good  breeding  and  courtesy  are  merely  the  outward  and 
visible  signs  of  truly  gentle  and  noble  dispositions — and 
converselv — one  must  admit  with  a  heavy  heart  that 
primeval  clownishness  and  boorishness  are  very  prevalent 
beneath  a  vanishingly  thin  cover  of  "  manners."  The 
irony  of  the  situation  however — and  one  must  admit 
that  this  renders  it  distinctly  comic — is  that  these 
aggressively  supercilious  people  who  are  so  vastly 
•*  superior"  to  "fads"  and  "outre"  costume,  are  in 
reality — could  they  but  be  made  to  realise  it — the 
veritable  dregs  or  scum  of  society — ^judged  that  is  by 
any  esthetic  and  intellectual  standard ;  whilst  their 
butts  are,  in  this  aspect,  the  tirst  approximations  to  the 
semi-Utopians.^ 

'  Bain  aptly  remarks,  "The  love  of  Influence,  Intcrftrpnce,  and 
Control,  is  so  extensive  ami  salient  as  to  be  a  great  fact  in  the 
constitution  of  society,  a  leading  cause  of  social  plienomena.  lb 
prompts  to  Intolerance  ami  the  Suppre.tsion  of  Individuality. 
Many  are  found  willing  to  submit  to  restraints  tiiemselves,  pro- 
vided thoy  can  impose  the  same  upon  their  unwilling  neigh- 
bors" {MtntcU  Science,  p.    259:  italics  ours).      The  wearing  of 


Luxury  and  Waste,  159 

But  preceding  now  to  women's  dress,  we  may  find 
luxury  and  waste  galore.  It  is  not  so  much  that  the 
expensiveness  is  a  necessary  function  of  the  beauty  of  the 
dress,  as  it  is  that,  from  an  ill  bred  desire  for  displaying 
their  wealth,  or  from  deference  to  a  tyrannical  fashion, 
or  from  pure  love  of  expensive  fabrics  jwa  expensive,  tliey 
choose  the  costliest  materials.  Now  so  far  as  concerns 
the  beauty  of  their  dresses,  the  women  of  the  future  will 
far  outshine  the  average  women  of  to-day :  for  then, 
every  woman  will  wear  a  dress  of  purely  artistic  make — 
both  in  shape,  set,  color,  and  combination — instead  of 
caricaturing  her  natural  beauty  of  form  by  all  the  in- 
credible and  hideous  absurdities  that  some  crack-brained 
milliner  in  Paris  dictates  as  the  next  fasliion — or  instead 

stove-pipe  hats,  black  coats,  and  trousers,  is,  of  course,  a  case  in 
poait — the  last  mentioned  abominations  having  been,  as  we 
surmise,  invented  V)j'  some  wooden-legged  or  spindle-shanked 
man-milliner  wlio  desired  to  impose  on  mankind  a  fashion  that 
would  emible  him  to  conceal  his  natural  or  acquired  deformities. 
Unhappily — so  slight  is  the  moral  courage  of  mankind — we  could 
mention  artists  and  philosophers  who  rail  eloquently  against  ail 
these  hideous  abominations,  and,  having  done  so,  conform 
scrupulously  to  "  fashicm,"  leaving  a  few  other  and  more  courage- 
ous rebels,  who  are  neither  artists  nor  philosopliers,  and  are 
tlierefor  far  more  exposed  to  obloquy  and  far  less  able  to  effectu- 
ally set  an  example,  to  practise  the  true  faith  'which  the  great 
men  content  themselves  with  preaching  !  In  this  connection 
we  may  quote  an  excellent  pas-ag^j  from  Bagehot,  who  remarks, 
"  You  may  talk  of  the  ty^ranny  of  Nero  and  Tiberius  ;  but  the 
real  tyranny  is  the  tyranny  of  your  next-door  neighbor.  Wliat 
law  is  so  cruel  as  the  law  of  doing  what  he  does  ?  What  yoke  is 
Bo  galling  as  the  necessity  of  being  like  him  ?  What  espionage 
of  despotism  comes  to  your  door  so  eli'ectually  as  the  eye  of  the 
man  that  lives  at  your  door  ?  Public  opinion  is  a  permeating 
influence,  and  it  exacts  obedience  to  itself :  it  requires  us  to 
think   other  men's   thoughts,  to   speak  other   men's   words,  to 


I  Co  Luxury  and  Waste. 

of  wearing  the  sombre  and  depressing  blacks  and  browns 
that  mournfully  characterise  an  English  assemblage  to- 
day. "Women  have  yet  to  learn  that  the  beauty  of  the 
dress  (and  indirectly  therefor  of  the  wearer)  depends 
almost  entirely  upon  tlie  graceful  and  flowing  draperies, 
and  upon  the  artistic  combination  of  colors  :  given  these 
two  elements,  and  a  dress  of  serge  or  cotton  will  be 
beautiful  and  the  wearer  winsome ;  without  these,  the 
most  expensive  silks,  satins,  and  brocades,  are  thrown 
away,  and  afford  no  pleasure  to  the  beholder.  Not  that 
we  anticipate  the  disappearance  of  silks  and  satins  and 
other  beautiful  materials  in  Utopia  ;  far  from  it ;  but  we 
do  anticipate  that  far  less  regard  w^ll  be  paid  to  the 
material  of  the  dress,  and  far  more  to  the  beauty  ;  and 

follow  other  men's  habits.  Of  course  if  we  do  not,  no  formal 
law  issues,  no  corporal  pain,  no  coarse  penally  of  a  barbarous 
society,  is  inflicted  on  the  offender ;  but  we  are  called  '  ec- 
centric'; there  is  a  gentle  murmur  of  'most  unfortunate  ideas,' 
'  singular  young  man,'  *  well-intentioned,  I  dare  say,  but 
imsafe,  sir,  quite  uiimfc'  The  27nul('iU  of  course  conform" 
(Biographical  Slxulita,  p.  4).  Doubtless  the  priulent  do  con- 
form ;  but  there  are  higiier  virtues  than  worldly  prudence. 
Had  not  earnest-minded  men  and  women  in  all  ages  scorned  the 
selfish  dictates  of  woildly  prudence,  freethought  and  liberty 
luul  never  been  achieved,  and  a  parcel  of  bigoted,  ignorant,  and 
intolerant,  old  women  in  trousers — or  rather  in  cassocks  and 
petticoats — would  have  stifled  progress  with  their  own  nasty 
clutches  ;  and  here,  in  our  own  dear  island,  the  banner  of  English 
liberty  would  never  have  been  emblazoned  with  the  imperishable 
glory  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  name,  nor  our  anuals  have  boasted 
the  felon's-death  of  one  royal  scoundrel,  and  the  ignominious 
dismissal  of  another.  All  these  things,  all  our  liberties  hardly 
wrung  from  despots  and  bigots,  we  owe  to  men  who  scorned 
prudence,  and  for  the  world's  sake  poured  out  their  lives  like 
water.  "The  prudent  of  course  co:ifurm" — aye;  but  "the 
ivorld  has  need  of  martyrs." 


Luxury  atid  [Vaste.  l6\ 

that  all  such  wickedly  wasteful  and  stupidly  expensive 
absurdities  as  we  now  see  in  court-dresses,  and  in  so  many 
ballroom-dresses,  as  well  as  in  the  unnecessary  multipli- 
city of  costumes  involving /o«r  or  Jive  changes  a  day,  will 
utterly  disappear.^ 

Closely  akin  to  this  subject  is  that  of  jewelry — which 
must  of  course  be  ranked  among  the  truly  tiseless,  and 
very  expensive,  luxuries.  In  so  far  however  as  the  value 
of  jewels  is  less  a  function  of  labor  bestowed  than  of 
intrinsic  rarity-cum-beauty,  it  may  be  difficulc  to  surmise 
whether  or  no  they  will  be  sought  after  or  worked  in 
semi-Utopia  :  but  that  any  one  individual's  wealth  of 
jewelry  will  be  almost  incommensurable  with  many 
ladies'  jewel-accumulations  of  to-day,  goes  without  say- 
ing. No  Utopian  could  understand  either  the  selfishness 
or  the  stupidity  which  are  involved  in  the  possession  of 
many  thousand  poundo'  worth  of  jewelry  by  a  single 
person  ;  and  his  only  verdict  on  a  burglary  which  carried 
oft'  the  whole  collection  at  one  fell  swoop  would  be — 
Serve  her  right !  In  speculating  on  tiie  jewelry  of 
Utopia  we  must  therefor  remember  that  there  is  already 
an  enormous  quantity  of  jewels  in  the  world  ;  were  these 
equally  divided,  probably  everyone  would  possess  as  many 
jewels  as  he  or  she  could  reasonably  desire  or  find  use 
for :  therefor,  since  jewels  are  practicall)'  immortal,  and 
since  the  various  natural  processes  so  frequently  alluded 
to  already  will  probably  tend  to  bring  about  a  distribu- 
tion of  such  jewels  among  the  commonalty,  it  seems  a 

^  To  read  an  account  of  the  dresses  and  jewels  at  a  royal  draw- 
ing-room, or  a  description  of  a  royal  trousseau,  is  simply  heart- 
breaking to  a  sociologist. 


l62  Luxury  and  Waste. 

tenable  supposition  that,  even  were  the  search  for  new 
jewels  to  be  entirely  abandoned  very  soon,  the  world 
•would  have  sufficient  to  meet  all  its  reasonable  require- 
ments.' 

Anyhow  it  is  certain  that  at  the  present  day  there  is 
a  great  and  unnecessary  waste  of  wealth  and  labor  on 
jewelry  generally  :  and,  were  it  not  for  the  vulgar  love 
of  display  and  ostentation,  each  one  of  us  might  save 
him  or  her  self  considerable  unnecessary  expense  (and  in 
the  aggregate  appreciably  lighten  the  currency  problem) 
by  substituting  silver  for  gold  in  articles  of  necessary 
jewelry.  Almost  the  only  such  really  necessary  articles 
of  jewelry  are  watches  and  chains ;  and — given  equally 
good  timekeeping — a  silver  watch  is  every  whit  as  good,^ 
vanity  and  display  excepted^  as  a  gold  one  :  whilst  to 
almost  everyone  a  silver  chain  should  be  as  acceptable  as  a 
golden.  So  too  for  rings,  bracelets,  brooches,  pencil-cases, 
and  the  like,  silver  might  perfectly  well  replace  gold ;  a 
vast  amount  of  expense  would  be  saved  and  the  currency 
benefited,  and  at  the  cost  only  of  mortifying  vanity  and 
vulgar  ostentation.  It  is  worth  while  remembering  that 
silver  has  a  higher  esthetic  value  than  has  gold  ;  and  this 
intrinsic  ditference  is  accentuated  by  the  extrinsic  con- 
sideration that  silver  jewelry  is  pure,  whereas  gold  jew- 
elry is  always,  and  necessarily,  largely  alloyed. 

•  To  say  nothing  of  the  probability  that  chemists  will  soon  be 
able  to  manufacture  jewels  to  any  extent  in  their  laboratories; 
whether  these  will  be  as  much  prized  when  plentiful  and  cheap 
is  quite  another  thing ;  but  probably  diamonds  will  always  be 
valued. 

2  If  silver  watches,  of  the  hcsf  timekeeping  qualities,  were  gen- 
erally demanded,  they  would  be  made. 


Luxury  and  Waste.  163 

One  reform  which  we  should  greatly  like  to  see — re- 
garding it  as  a  symptom  of  a  healtliier  public  feeling — 
would  be  the  abolition  of  that  despicably  servile  practice 
of  heaping  up   gold   bracelets,   gold   caskets,  •"■    gold  all- 

^  Ouida asserts  that  these  are  currently  understood  to  be  turned 
into  hard  oasli  at  once  by  their  recipients.  See  her  scathing  article 
on  the  "  Sins  of  Society"  (in  Fortnightly  Reriew  for  December, 
1S92),  with  much  of  which  we  cordially  coincide,  altho  we  must 
take  serious  exception  to  one  or  two  passai;es.  In  tliis  connec- 
tion too  we  may  remind  our  readers  of  the  fulsome  toadyism  dis- 
played by  the  nation  at  large  on  the  recent  marriage  of  the  Uuke 
of  York,  when  not  only  the  wealthy,  but  ragged  schoulcliildren, 
sailors,  and  soldiers,  were  all  rolibed  to  swell  the  wealth  of  a 
young  man  wlio  had  no  single  tittle  of  a  claim  on  his  country- 
men's gratitude,  and  who,  by  encouraging  this  miserable  system, 
demonstrated  nothing  so  convincingly  as  his  kinship  Co  the  other 
royal  "  guinea-pigs,"  and  his  absolute  unfitness  for  the  post  of 
"  tirst  geiideman"  in  the  kingdom.  It  is  the  sight  of  such 
wealth-squandering  on  unworthy  recipients  that  converts  men  to 
Socialism  in  thousands  and  prompts  such  speeches  as  those  of 
Mr.  Keir  IJardie,  who  is  reported  to  have  said  :  "  It  was  a  dis- 
grace when  poverty  was  so  rampant  that  men  should  make  a 
parade  of  their  pomp  and  their  wealth.  Recently  an  appeal  was 
made  to  the  nation  on  behalf  of  the  poor  widows  and  orphans  who 
suffered  liy  the  failing  of  the  Liberator  Building  Society.  The 
sum  of  £100,000  was  aske(i  for,  but  it  was  never  raised.  But 
when  an  ap[)eal  was  made  for  wedding  gifts  to  Princess  May  and 
the  Duke  of  York,  the  toadyism  of  the  nation  responded  to  the 
extent  of  £250,000." 

We  sulijoiu  one  or  two  other  extracts  from  the  daily  papers  on 
these  topics. 

"  PRESENTS    TO    PRINCESS    MAY. 

"  Yesterday  afternoon  a  deputation  waited  upon  the  Princess 
May  at  White  Lodge  to  present  to  her  a  very  handsome  revolv- 
ing bookcase  containing  the  works  of  Kingsley,  Scott,  Byron, 
Dickens,  George  Eliot,  Lamb,  Cliarlotte  Bronte,  Macaulay,  and 
otiier  autliors,  the  gift  of  the  children  attending  some  of  tlie  ele- 
mentary schools  of  London.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Teck  and 
Princess  May  recei\  ed  the  deputation  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
Princess  May  expressed  her  warm  thanks  lor  such  a  haudsome 
gift." 


164  Luxury  and   Wasfe. 

manner-of-absuivlities,  upon  tlie  idle  royalties  who  set  so 
evil  an  example  of  waste  and  extravagance  to  society. 
When    corporations   and    committees    cease   to  fawn  011 

"the  city  and  royalty. 

"A  Collective  View  of  tlie  Corporate  Generosity  to  the  Royal 
Family. 

"Here  is  the  City's  expenditure  on  the  Royal  Family  during 
the  preseut  reiyn  : — 

Jubilee — 

Her  Majesty £5,000 

Wedding  Gifts — 

Princess  of  Wales  £10,000 

Duchess  of  Edinburgh 3,150 

Princess  iVIay  2,1)25 

15,775 

Gold  Boxes  (sometimes  wedding  gifts) — 

Prince  of  Wales  275 

Duke  of  Clarence  250 

Princes  Consort,  Alfred,  Leopold,  Artliur, 
George  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Fife.  Prin- 
cess   Louise   of  Wales,  Duke  of   C.im- 

bridge  (100  guiueus  each)  840 

1,365 

AIemokials,  &c. — 

Prince  Consort    644 

Princess  of  Wales  (Imperial  Institute  model) .  525 

Duke  of  Cambridge  (sword,  1857) 218 

£23,527 
"This  does  not  take  into  account  moneys  expended  by  tlie  mem- 
bers of  the  Corporation  upon  themselves  in  connection  with 
royal  events.  Thus,  on  the  occasion  of  each  of  these  presenta- 
tions, there  was  a  civic  gorge,  and  when  it  is  realised  that  the 
sum  of  £1,500  is  to  be  expended  upon  a  mere  midday  lunch 
when  the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Princess  May  come  to  receive 
their  gift,  it  will  be  understood  that  a  considerable  sum  should 
be  added  to  that  just  mentioned  in  order  to  cover  the  total  ex- 
penditure. No  account  is  here  taken  of  presentations  to  foreign 
notables,  such  as  Kaiser,  Tsar,  Sultan,  and  Shah,  nor  does  this 
statement,  which  we  have  compiled  from  Corporation  documents, 
bear  any  reference  to  moneys  expeiuled  by  iudividual  guilds, 
such  as  the  Saddlers'  which  preS'^Ued  its  freedom  to  the  Duke  oi 
CoiinaugliL  on  Monil.iy." 


Luxury  and  Waste.  165 

these  expensive  excrescences  with  the  adulation  at  pre- 
sent fashionable,  moral  progress  will  be  evidenced. 

Whilst  speaking  of  these  matters  we  had  better  in- 
clude all  tliat  need  be  said  of  the  precious  metals  in 
manufactured  form  generally ;  and,  therefor,  we  will 
point  out  that  all  such  luxuries  as  silver  serviette-rings, 
silver  teapots  and  coffeepots,  silver  milk-jugs,  silver  toast- 
racks,  silver  candlesticks,  silver  salvers,  silver  cups,  and, 
in  short,  silver  plate  generally,  are  mere  expensive  frivoli- 
ties and  wasteful  exciescences  of  modern  life  that  will 
probably  disappear  presently.  People  will  become  too 
sensible,  and  too  averse  to  display,  to  waste  their  labors 
on  acquiring  what  can  be  perfectly  replaced  by  good 
china  at  a  fraction  of  the  cost.^  In  conclusion,  we  may 
note  as  significant  for  the  present  day  that  the  less  plate 
one  owns,  the  less  temptation  is  there  to  burglars,  and 
the  freer  from  anxiety  is  the  householder. 

If  now  it  be  asked  how  much  waste  is  caused  nationally 
by  this  over-indulgence  in  jewelry,  we  must  point  out 
that  since  jewelry  is  not — like  wine— consumed  in  the 
iise,  and  since  all  the  gold,  at  least,  that  is  now  worked 
up  into  jewelry,  would  otherwise  be  snapped  up  by  the 
mint,  the  best  measure  of  such  waste  must  be  found  in 
the  amount  of  labor  absorbed  in  the  work.  Now  the 
census- returns  (for  1881)  number  the  workers  in  precious 
stones   and   jewelry  at    23,622  ^ — besides  6,010  women. 

1  Emphatically  we  liave  not  included  in  this  account  silver 
spoons  and  forks,  which  belong  to  another  category  entirely — to 
that,  viz.,  of  useful  and  necessary  domestic  furniture.  Above  all 
things  we  would  iiave  that  lijiufj  practice  of  plating  abolished — 
to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  it  is  dearer  in  the  long  run. 

2  It  is  not  clear  how  many  of  these  may  be  also  shopkeepers 
—  i.e.,  sellers  of  jewelry,  nor  wiietlier  watchmakers  are  included. 


1 66  Luxury  and  Waste. 

Disregarding'  the  latter,  we  have  as  a  result  that  the 
luxury  of  jewels  and  silverplate  costs  the  nation  annually 
(a)  the  keep  of  23,G0O  men,  and  (6)  the  wealth  which 
might  otherwise  be  created  by  such  men.  If  their  wages 
be  reckoned  to  average  only  £2  per  week  thro'ouL  we  get 
(23,622  X  2  X  52)  close  on  two  and  a  half  millions  as  the 
direct  cost  of  this  luxury,  besides  the  loss  of  wealth  (to 
be  valued  considerably  higher  than  this  figure)  which 
these  men  would  otherwise  create  if  employed  in  pro- 
ductive work  ;  at  this  rate  the  national  charge  for  the 
luxury  of  jewels  might  very  well  reach  at  least  seven  or 
eight  millions  apparently  !  Now,  if  we  take  into  account 
all  the  quite  unnecessary  jewel-like  luxuries  tiiat  have 
just  been  indicated,  it  will  seem  a  very  reasonable  sup- 
position that  this  large  class  of  unproductive  workers 
may  be  reduced  by  certainly  15  or  18  thousand — thus 
effecting  an  annual  saving — according  to  our  calculation 
--of  five  or  six  millions.  Calculations  of  this  sort — 
however  necessarily  rough  and  approximate  only — are  yet 
very  nseful  in  assisting  us  to  realise  what  a  terribly  large 
propoi-tion  of  our  national  work-time,  that  is  of  Life,  is 
frittered  away  upon  useless  luxuries — 

•'  So  chasing  dreams,  so  dreamlike  chafed, 
Thro  lapse  of  years  our  Ule  doth  icaste." 

■ — but  things  will  be  far  otherwise  in  Utopia.^ 

1  The  reason  for  consistently  disregarding  the  women  in  thes'? 
calcuhitions  is  tlie  assumption  that  in  semi-Utopia  women  will 
1)6  suthciently  occupied  in  liousehohl  work  and  childward  care  — 
and,  therefor,  must  not  be  regarded  as  wage-earners. 

2  In  a  recent  article  in  the  Fortnightly  Bevieiu  we  read — "  The 
fact  that  there  are  in  India  400,000  jewellers,  and  only  300,000 
smiths,  is  eloquent  as  to  oiw  cause  of  poverty."     So  say  vve. 


Luxury  and  Waste.  1 67 

Before  passing  on  to  our  next  heading — or  rather  per^ 
haps  as  a  transition  from  jewehy  thereto — we  may 
instance,  as  exemplifying  in  a  comparatively  trifling  way 
the  general  spirit  of  wastefuluess  which  pervades  Society, 
the  thousand  and  one  more  or  less  useless  and  absurd 
giracracks  of  every  description  that  may  be  fonnd  in 
"  fancy  "-shops  and  bazaars,  especially  in  the  West-end  of 
London.  It  would  be  an  interesting  thing  to  catalogue 
the  contents  of  a  few  shop-fronts,  with  their  prices,  and 
then  determine  how  small  a  pei'centage  would  be  really 
missed  were  a  general  massacre  of  these  trifles  carried 
out.  How  much  labor  is  annually  wasted  on  amassing 
useless  bits  of  (supposedly  ornamental)  crockeryware 
that  are  of  no  imaginable  service  for  any  purpose  and  do 
nothing  but  lumber  up  a  house,  and  innumerable  other 
such  trifles — all  of  which  absurdities  may  be  bought, 
either  by  noncompotes  for  themselves,  or  by  people  generally 
when  called  npon  to  make  wedding  or  birthday  presents.^ 
But  in  Utopia  common-sense  will  be  less  uncommon. 

And  now  as  a  closing  instance  of  wasteful  luxury  in 
excelsis  we  may  point  to  house-"  decoration  "  and  house- 
furnishing  generally — a  waste  the  more  unpardonable  in 
that  the  costly  effects  are  often  enough  so  hideously  in- 
artistic ;  for  "  decoration  "  and  beautifying  are  very  far 
indeed  from  being  synonymous  terms.  Ruskin  has  an 
excellent  passage  in  one  of  his  works  deprecating  the 
opinion  that  a  small  house  cannot  be — architecturally — 
beautiful  :  we  wish  that  men  generally  could  be  made  to 

1  It  is  very  regretable  that  in  making  such  presents  so  many 
people  prefer  to  choose  some  absolutely  useless  and  cumbersome 
article  (of  crockeryware  for  instance)  that  only  puzzles  the  un- 
fortunate recipient  to  dispose  of  it. 


1 68  Luxury  and  Waste. 

understand  that  mere  size — size  for  the  sake  of  ostenta- 
tion and  display — is  the  very  last  thing  to  aim  at ;  and 
that  similarly  in  decorating  and  furnishing  the  interiors 
it  is  necessary  to  start  by  absolutely  ignoring  all  the 
traditions  of  decorators,  upholsterers,  aud  other  vulgar 
and  pigheaded  human  shams,  and  to  make  a  clean  sweep 
of  all  their  proposals.  The  waste  of  work  and  money 
annually  entailed  by  the  absurd  and  tyrannous  traditions, 
that  Mrs.  Grundy  expects  everybody  to  observe,  ia 
something  painful  to  contemplate:  aud  while  "decora- 
tion "  is  still  laid  on  by  housepainters  and  their  like  at 
the  cost  of  several  hundred  pounds  for  a  single  room,  and 
the  "  decorated  "  room  is  then  handed  over  to  the  pur- 
veyors of  vulgar  upholstery  fur  furnishing  on  a  similar 
scale — so  long  is  social  ini|)rovemeiit  yet  very  far  to 
seek.  All  this  will  be  altered  in  semi-Utopia  ;  there,  the 
decorations  will  consist  in,  not  vulgar  stucco  and  gilt,  but 
beautiful  pictures  and  flowing  draperies  ;  and  tho  per- 
chance many  houses  there  might  boast  true  decorations 
that  we  should  think  cheaply  bought  at  hundreds  of 
pounds,  that  will  be  only  because,  year  after  year,  loving 
hands  have  labored  joyfully  at  frescos  and  carviug,  to 
beautify  in  their  leisure  their  own  home — their  own,  and 
not  a  stranger-landlord's,  house.  But  at  pre-ent  we 
are  stupidly  dominated  by  the  Gruudy-upholsterer-de- 
corator  league,  and  waste  our  money  on  the  lying 
vulgarisms  of  gilt  picture-frames,  gilt  cornices,  gilt 
mirror-frames,  on  troublesome  lustres,  on  ornamental  but 
never-to-be-used  fireirons,  on  expensively  and  uncomfort- 
ably upholstered  chairs,  impossible  candlesticks,!  in- 
1  Perhaps  carefully  covered  up  under  glass  shades  1 1 


Luxury  and   Waste.  169 

credible  vases,  shelves  of  old  china,  and  china  plates, 
cups  and  saucers  to  be  hung  up  as  ornaments  on  the 
•walls  but  of  course  never  used  (!),  and  a  multitude  of 
similar  absurdities  ;  simply  because  it  is  thought  fashion- 
able and  proper  and  respectable  so  to  waste  one's  money 
on  these  fooleries  ;  whilst  any  self-willed  sensible  man 
who  should  insist  on  substituting  wooden-framed  mirrors 
and  wooden  picture-frames  for  their  present  gilded  rej)re- 
sentatives,  and  on  abolishing  gilt  cornices  and  all  the 
otlier  absurdities  we  have  noticed,  would  be  considered  a 
very  odd  man,  quite  outside  society  don't  you  Tcnow.  The 
standards  of  common  sense,  independence,  and  estheticism, 
are  so  terribly  low  that  probably  ninety -nine  people  in  a 
hundred  would  prefer  gilt  cornices  and  gilt  mirrors  to 
a  liouseful  of  beautiful  pictures — were  tiiey  otiered  the 
choice  of  either  exclusively.'- 

But  we  need  not  linger  longer  on  this  topic  :  enough 
has  been  said  to  show  that  here  again  is  another  depart- 
ment of  useless  expense  that  may  be  considerably  cur- 
tailed with  advantage  :  it  were  superfluous  to  follow  the 
subject  into  further  details ;  suffice  it  again  to  indicate 
the  lines  along  which  reform  may  travel.^ 

^  We  may  remark  that  here  again  we  have  liaci  tlie  pleasure  of 
finrling  Mr.  Morris'  views  ou  house-decoration  and  its  reforms 
strikingly  concordant  with  our  own  :  we  may  especially  recom- 
mend his  lecture  on  "  Making  the  best  of  it  "  [Hopes  and  Fears 
for  Art)  as  affording  abundant  details  of  reforms  that  might  be 
adopted  :  but  we  dissent  entirely  from  his  dislike  to  gas. 

-  In  connection  with  these  expenses,  one  should  take  count  of 
all  the  stupid  and  wasteful  expenditure  that  is  lavished  on  the 
fittings  and  "  decorations  "  of  ocean-steamers,  of  traines-de-lnxe, 
and  especially  of  theatres  ;  this  last  expense  being  particularly 
cruel  since  the  result  is  to  increase  the  prices  of  admission,  i.e., 
to  render  it  more  ditiicult  for  nnuiy  to  eiijiiy  an  esthetic  gratifica- 


170  Luxury  and   Waste, 

Lastly,  as  a  sct-ofF  to  all  the  fore.;oing  economics  of 
expense  and  wealth,  it  must  not  be  forpjotteii  tliat  lu 
othtr  directions  the  Utopians'  expenses  will  outstrip  ours: 

tion  :  hence  it  is  -tho  the  extravagant  sums  paid  by  English- 
men and  Americans  to  operatic  and  dramatic  artists  represent 
another  factor  in  the  expense — that  men  who  have  lived  abroad 
justly  complain  that,  not  the  necessities  but,  tlie  amu'iements  of 
life  are  so  ruinously  expensive  in  liOndon  ;  and  tell  us  that  in 
Dresden,  e.gr. ,  they  can  enjoy  for  two  or  three  shillings  vvliat 
costs  them  eiglit  or  ten  in  London.  We  must  be  pardoned  for 
adding  that,  great  as  may  be  the  services  rendered  by  Henry 
Irving  to  the  English  drama,  we  cannot  but  deem  his  influence 
ruinously  disastrous  in  that  he  has  educated  theatregoers  to  a 
ruinous  extravagance  of  altogether  superfluous  stage-scenery, 
stage-dress,  and  meretricifius  glitter,  that,  while  enormously  in- 
creasing the  expense,  liave  not  one  iota  of  value  in  increasing  the 
artistic  illusion,  but  can  only—  so  far  as  they  are  effectual  at  all 
—  distract  the  attention  from  the  acting.  VVe  had  scarcely  ex- 
pected to  see  Henry  VIII.  converted  into  a  series  of  circus- 
pageints  suggesting  nothing  so  much  as  a  vulgar  Lord  Mayor's 
Show — and  at  the  cost  too  of  excising  a  large  portion  of  the  play 
and  rendering  the  conclusion  logically  meaningless — and,  tho  it 
be  soniewliat  invidious  to  draw  comparisons,  we  could  not  avoid 
contrasting  the  comparativflj'  simple  settings  of  Hamlet  at  the 
Hay  market  and  Twdfth  Night  at  Daly's  theatre- -where  there 
were  sufficient  scenic  effects  to  complete  the  illusion  and  atl'ord 
graceful  stagepictures,  but  without  such  extravagance  of  glitter- 
ing "supers" — with  the  recognised  style  of  the  Lyceum. 

As  other  examples  of  tliis  wicked  cult  of  sheer  waste  we  may 
mention  tlie  practice  of  issuing  editions  de  hixe,  and  distiibutiu'j 
the  type  when  250  or  125  copies  are  printed — as  if  human  toil 
and  luiman  wealth  were  valueless  as  water — in  order  that  a  few 
unprincipled  persons  may  enjoy  the  selfish  and  stupid  luxury  q/ 
possessing  something  that  hardly  anyo7ie  else  has.  That  the  same 
fatal  disease  is  sapping  every  branch  of  social  life  is  evidenced 
by  such  trifling  phenomena  as  the  absurd  extravagance  with 
which  barbers'  shops  are  fitted  up,  and  by  the  preposterous 
luxuries  provided  on  the  steamers  which  now  perforin  fortnightly 
cruises  to  Norway  and  other  parts — the  efl'ect  of  whicii  is  of 
course  to  double  the  expense  and  prevent  thousands  from  enjoying 
Buch  cruises  ! 


Luxury  mid  Waste.  I^r 

while  despisiuo-  so  many  of  our  stnpid  and  sensual 
luxuries,  tliej  will  require  far  far  more  thin  we  do  of 
esthetic  luxuries.  Pictures,  music,  statues,  aye  and  such 
minor  esthetic  properties  as  scent,  flowers,  draperies,  and 
the  like,  will  be  far  more  necessary  to  Utopians  than  to 
ourselves.  1  What  a  happy  and  gracious  halcyon-life  will 
theirs  be ! 

1  It  may  be  matter  of  surprise  that  in  condemning  the^e 
luxuries  we  have  said  nothing  of  tobacco- on  >.'hich,  excludin-^ 
c.gars,  m  1892,  I6i  millions  were  expended  in  the  United  Kin-alom 
alone:  surely  this  is  a  luxury  as  much  as  Mane,  and  equally, 
here  is  unproductive  consumption.  Some  years  ago  we  had 
denounced  tobacco  as  being  as  useless  and  needless  as  wine  •  but 
we  are  wiser  now.  Then  we  were  without  the  pale  :  now  we 
worship  at  the  shrine  of  "  oure  gracious  ladye  Nicotine  "  Seri- 
ously  however,  there  is  a  great  difference  between  sn.okinc  and 
wme-dnnking.  In  the  first  place,  of  the  16^  millions  expended  no 
kss  than  about  9i  were  duty-Government  tax,  thus  leaving  only 
.  Mulhons  as  actually  spent  on  tobacco-whilst,  as  every  econ'omist 
knows,  this  sum  would  again  be  enormously  reduce,!  but  for  the 
various  middlemen's  profits  on  the  amount  of  the  duty  which  is 
evied  on  the  imports  :  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  declared  value  of 
the  tobacco  at  the  customhouse  Mas  under  2  million 

Cigars  however  we  regard  as  exactly  upon  a  level  with  ex- 
pensive wines  ;  while  tobacco  answers  to  beer  and  clarets.  Now 
just  as  we  defended  the  drinking  of  beer  and  claret  in  Utopia,  so 
now  far  more  strongly  do  we  defend  smoking,  both  in  Utopia 
and  here.  Of  course  economically  smoking  is-  waste,  but  so  is 
every  thing-including  all  esthetic  properties-that  is  not  neces- 
sary to  hfe-sustentation  !  But  the  true  moral  criterion  can 
be  obtained  only  hy  comparing  amount  and  character  of  pleasure 
with  amount  and  character  of  expense.  Now  if  we  consider  how 
much  real  happiness  may  be  obtained  from  smoking,  and  that 
supposing  a  man  to  smoke  4  ounces  a  week-which  were  tolerably 
heavy  smoking,- the  expense  (minus  duty)  would  be  only  30s 
a  i/ear  to  him,  it  seems  to  us  that  tlie  charge  of  wastefulness  falls 
utterly  to  the  ground  ! 

It  may  be  retorted  that,  according  to  onr  own  showing  in  the 


1^2  Luxury  and  Waste. 

We  must  once  more  emphatically  protest  against  the 
selfish  objection  so  apt  to  be  raised  against  such  specula- 
tions as  these,  that  (grumblinglj)  '''■toe  want  servants  and 
wines,  expensive  dresses  and  big  dinners,  to  make  us 
happy  :  of  what  use  is  it  to  prove  that  they  are  wasteful ; 


case  of  wine,  if  a  coining  generation  had  never  tasted  the  pleasure, 
they  would  be  none  the  less  happy,  since  smoking  is,  like  drink- 
ing, a  mere  passing  physical  pleasure,  with  no  ideal  persistence, 
so  that  even  reading  of  it  would  produce  no  regrets  in  a  tobacco- 
less  race.  But  here  there  are  several  errors  ;  smoking,  we  think, 
has  a  strong  ideal  persistence,  and  is  capable  of  being  ideally 
represented  in  such  wise  as  to  induce  desire  for  it :  the  pre-emi- 
nently dreamy  character  of  smoking  should  be  remembered  also. 
With  regard  to  this  marked  ideal-representability  of  smoking, 
and  its  ability  to  impress  the  imagination,  we  are  able  to  speak 
somewliat  from  our  own  experience.  Every  one  is  familiar  with 
such  novtl  phrases  as  "knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe"  — 
"reflectively  filling  and  lighting  his  pipe" — "drawing  at  his 
pipe  with  an  expression  of  deep  satisfaction  " — "wreathed  in  a 
cloud  of  smoke"  etc.,  etc. — in  fact  with  all  the  innumerable 
pictures  of  tobaccaceous  content  and  happiness  that  our  novelists 
have  painted  for  us.  Now  an  abiding  result  of  these  word- 
paintings  (strengthened  no  doubt  by  the  daily  sight  of  scores  of 
actualities  corresponding  thereto)  may  be  to  call  up  frequent 
ideal  representations  in  the  mental  picture-galleries  of  those  even 
who  have  never  yet  experienced  the  pleasure  of  smoking.  Long 
before  we  had  commenced  smoking,  and  at  a  time  when  we 
rather  objected  to  the  practice  than  otherwise,  yet  if  we  were 
day-dreaming  and  amusing  ourself  by  painting  a  mental  picture 
of  mankind  under  various  imaginary  circumstances,  the  tobacco 
woidd  crop  up  and  claim  to  be  included  in  the  picture  :  the  ideal 
persistence  of  the  well-known  weed  was  strong  :  and  if  finally  we 
refused  to  include  it,  the  picture  was  apt  to  look  untinislied  to 
our  mental  eye,  and  perhaps  in  visualisinr)  it  the  pipe  or  cigar 
would  enter  the  mouth  whether  we  desired  it  or  not.  No  doubt, 
thousands  could  bear  out  our  experience  in  this  direction,  and 
this  indicates  that  an  age  which  had  never  smelt  or  tasted  tobacco 
might  yet  experience  a  strong  desire  for  the  pleasure  which  is  in- 
cidentally portrayed  so  frequently  in  our  light  literature.     Bvt 


Luxury  and   Waste.  173 

you  cuu't  prove  that  they  are  not  very  pleasant."  Now 
against  all  this  it  is  sufficient  to  reply  that  we  do  not 
deny  that  they  are  very  'plea&ant :  but  the  question  is 
whether  those  who  enjoy  these  luxuries  would  propose  to 


we  have  observed  little  or  no  such  ideal  persistence  with  regard  to 
wine. 

Again  there  is  unmistakably  a  distinct  physical  craving  for 
some  such  employuieut  of  the  mouth  as  smoking  affords.  Dogs 
perhaps  satisfy  the  same  craving  by  gnawing  bones  :  certainly 
chilch-en  (and  to  a  less  extent  probably  women)  experience  a 
similar  craving  which  they  satisfy  by  chewing  sweetmeats  or  pen- 
holders :  and  in  our  own  experience— and  we  have  heard  a  similar 
declaration  from  otliers — in  pre-smoking  days  of  manhood  there 
was  a  constant  craving  for  employing  the  mouth  somehow.  This 
fact,  of  the  physical  craving  of  the  mouth  for  some  such  employ- 
ment as  smoking  affords — in  addition  to  the  strong  nervous 
appi'eciation  of  some  species  of  narcotic,  as  testified  by  the 
prevalence  of  betel-chewing  and  many  similar  practices  in  parts 
where  tobacco  is  not  used,  and  by  the  disgusting  practice  of 
snuff-taking  among  many  who  do  not  smoke — seems  to  us  one 
that  should  by  no  means  be  neglected  in  any  discussion  upon  the 
ethics  of  tobacco.  That  smoking  is  an  incomparably  better 
sohition  of  the  difficulty  tlian  incessant  eating  goes  without 
saying  ;  and  we  may  point  out  the  special  advantage  of  smoking 
in  that  it  may  be  so  long  continued  :  smoking  can  in  no  sense  be 
described  as  a  passincj  pleasure  ;  and  herein  consists  another 
marked  distinction  between  smoking  and  drinking — which  latter 
is  decidedly  momentary.  A  man  may  be  steadily  smoking  for 
many  hours  at  a  stsetch,  and  experiencing  massive  pleasure  all 
the  while  :  whereas  such  persistence  in  drinking  were  clearly 
impossible. 

Whether  or  no  smoking  be  injurious  to  health,  is  another 
qr<estion  altogether,  and  one  tliat  must  be  left  to  the  experts.  If 
sufficient  proof  could  be  obtained  of  its  injurious  influence,  that 
might  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  giving  up  tobacco  ;  but  it  is  well 
to  remember  tlie — too  often  forgotten — truth  that  health  itself  is 
valuable  only  as  a  means  to  the  end  of  happiness  ;  and  some 
might  think  ill  health  and  happiness  preferable  to  tobaccoless 
health  minus  hai:)piness. 


174  Luxury  a)id   Waste. 

retain  them  at  tl)e  cost  of  discomfort,  siifTpriiif*,  and 
poverty,  to  the  many  :  or  whether  tliey  can  muster 
sufficient  unselfishness  to  admit  that  a  social  state  in 
whicii  all  are  comfortably  rich  is  incomparably  superior 
to  one  in  which  a  few  are  rolling  in  wealth,  and  many 
are  heart-hungry,  soul-hungry,  even  body-hungry,  very 
poor.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  waited  on  by  a  dozen 
slaves  ;  but  will  it  be  asserted  that  to  deny  this  pleasure 
to  Utopians  is  to  deny  them  happiness  1  We  admit — freely 
— that  to  achieve  Utopia  we  Truist  forgo  many  pleasures 
and  luxuries  of  to-day  ;  but  is  not  the  loss  many  times 
over  counterbalanced  by  the  gain?  Over  and  over  again 
we  have — as  our  only  course  we  have — to  choose  the 
lesser  evil  ;  and  an  Utopia  for  which  a  few  must  sacrifice 
luxuries  is  far  superior  to  our  present  miserable  social 
state  in  which  a  few  have  luxuries — and  many  nothing  ! 
To  give  up  slaves  may  doubtlessly  be  painful  to  the 
slaveowner  :  but  what  about  the  hedonistic  gain  of  the 
slaves;  are  we  to  neglect  that]  We  must  strive — 
however  diflBcult  it  be — to  view  all  tliese  tilings  unsel- 
fishly, to  "legislate"  not  for  our  few  selves,  but  for  all 
our  brethren,  when  we  deliberate  upon  Utopia.  The 
selfish  complaint,  "  Oh,  /  don't  want  an  Utopia  in  whicli 
1  shall  have  to  do  so  and  so  "  must  disappear. 

Now  many,  perchance,  may  feel  inclined  to  ask  ;  how 
far  are  these  reforms  a  matter  for  by-and-bye,  and  how  far 
for  the  present :  are  they  merely  prophesied,  or  in  addition 
preached  for  present  use  :  assuming  these  speculations 
on  tlie  ultimate  disappearance  of  many  luxuries  to  be 
correct,  what  ought  a  man  to  do  now  in  this  present 
social  state  ;  ought  he  to  forgo — however  rich — expensive 


Luxury  and  Waste.  175 

wines,  expensive  houses,  expensive  "  decorations,"  a  large 
retinue  of  servants,  and  in  fact  expensive  living  generally  ; 
or  may  he  continue  his  present  state  undisturbed,  leaving 
Utopia  to  bring  about  Utopian  conditions  %  Before 
definitely  answering  this  question  we  must  make  two 
provisos.  Firstly,  in  using  the  word  ought,  in  the  present 
connexion,  we  do  not  use  it  in  the  sense  of  the  categorical 
imperative,  implying  tliat  to  disregard  it  is  a  distinct 
breach  of  duty  ;  but  rather  in  the  milder  and  popular 
sense  of  what  is  highly  advisable,  desirable,  or  to  be 
recommended  as  "  good  deeds."  We  make  this  reserva- 
tion for  reasons  that  we  cannot  explain  without  going 
into  a  fundamental  ethical  discussion  that  would  be  out 
of  place  here,  and  we  must  content  ourselves,  for  the 
present  therefor,  with  simply  stating  this  reservation. 
Secondly,  we  are  by  no  means  oblivious  of  what  Spencer 
has  emphasized — that  an  ideal  life  is  impossible  except 
in  an  ideal  state  ;  this,  however,  is  very  far  from  saying 
that  one  should  fold  one's  hands  and  be  content  Avith 
the  actual  present ;  but,  nevertheless,  we  have  intimated 
that  many  of  these  luxuries  will  be  abolished  willy  iiilly 
by  the  natural  processes  of  economics,  viz.,  by  the  increas- 
ing price  of  labor  rendering  their  cost  prohibitive. 

Granting,  however,  their  full  importance  to  these 
reservations,  we  do  think  it  urgently  necessary  that  a 
reform  should  be  set  going  at  cmce,  instead  of  waiting 
contentedly  for  time  to  unfold  his  own  developments  ; 
and,  since  men  might  so  immensely  expedite  the  advent 
of  Utopia  if  they  would,  we  do  hold  that  men,  however 
rich,  emphatically  ought  to  cease  indulging  in  numberless 
wasteful  luxuries  such  as  wg  have  specified,  and  set  an 


176  Luxury  and  Waste. 

example  to  tlicii'  fellows  of  living  simply  and  moderately. 
"  However  rich  " — yes  ;  and  the  richer,  or  the  higher  m 
social  standing,  the  better ;  for  then  by  so  much  more 
would  their  example  be  effectual.  It  cannot  be  too 
often  reiterated  that  what  we  primarily  want  is  a  simpler 
and  healthier  individual  social  life  :  and  we  may  point 
out  one  inestimable  advantage  that  would  at  once  accrue 
to  every  young  man — (and  to  the  young  we  must  mainly 
look  for  reform)  —  who  would  adopt  this  ideal  of  simple, 
unwasteful,  unluxurioiis,  life.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that 
both  physicallv,  morally,  and  emotionally,  it  is  bad  for 
man  to  live  alone  ;  and  that  compulsory  celibacy  is  a 
deadly  social  disease  responsible  for  cruel  sufferings  :  but, 
nevertheless,  thousands  of  men  are  compelled  to  defer 
their  marriage  thro  weary  years  until — life's  first  flush 
and  romance,  alas,  now  vanished  for  ever  ! — they  can 
afford  the  expenses  of  a  married  life.  Now,  that  we  are 
deadly  opponents  of  improvident  marriage,  that  is  to  say, 
chiefly,  of  improvident  child-bearing,  lias  already  been 
made  sufficiently  el  ear;  but — putting  aside  the  preposterous 
superstitions  usually  prevalent — children  need  never  be 
born  until  they  can  be  afforded  ;  for  the  rest,  any  man 
and  woman,  who  are  willing  to  adopt  the  simple  ideal  of 
refined  but  non-luxurious  and  non-conventional  life  that 
we  have  set  forth,  might  probably  marry  with  assurance 
at  twenty-three  on  an  income  of  £150 — and  wait  a  few 
years  before  bringing  children  into  the  world — instead  of, 
as  at  present,  starving  their  hearts  for  years  in  ]uning 
isolation.  In  this  sense  Love  in  a  cut  is  a  true,  real, 
and  practicable,  ideal  of  life  1 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  EUTHAlSrASTA  OF  CERTAIN  UNNECESSARY  TRADES  ;  AND 
THE  FUNCTIONS  OF  MIDDLEMKN  :  THE  READJUSTMENT 
OF  occupations;  and  THE  ECONOMICS  OF  UNPRODUC- 
TIVE   LABOR. 

"  The  World's  great  age  begins  anew, 
The  golden  years  return  ; 
Tlie  Earth  doth,  like  a  snake,  renew 
Her  winter  weeds  outworn  : 
Heaven  smiles,  and  faiths  and  empires  gleam 
Like  wrecks  of  a  dissolving  dream." 

In  connection  with  the  discussion  of  the  luxuries  that  we 
may  expect  to  disappear,  and  of  the  new  forms  of  social 
life  that  will  appear,  in  Utopia,  it  is  very  well  worth 
while  to  consider  how  many  of  the  various  typical  trades 
we  may  expect  to  die  out — to  the  promotion  of  general 
happiness  and  at  the  expense  of  no  real  desideranda. 

First  of  all,  it  has  been  already  pointed  out  that 
soldiers,  policemen,  law  officials,  and  numbers  of  other 
functionaries,  will  nearly  or  quite  disappear  in  semi- 
Utopia  :  but  it  has  not  yet  been  remarked  that  the 
abolition  of  these  occupations  will  entail  the  co-relative 
disappearance  of  many  trades  which  at  present  use  up  an 
enormous  amount  of  wealth,  and  the  concomitant  setting- 
free  of  another  large  body  of  laborers  who,  at  the  pre- 
177 


178  Ujiproductive  Labor,  &c. 

sent  time,  are  (directly  or  indirectly)  heiit  by  the  com- 
munity :  here  again,  as  iias  been  so  repeatedly  urged 
already,  tiie  community  at  large  will  gain,  not  only  by 
being  freed  from  the  burden  of  keeping  these  men.  but 
also  by  the  fresh  wealth  that  will  be  created  when  they 
become  productive  workers. 

Now,  for  instance,  the  ab(;lition  of  soldiers  will  put  an 
end  to  the  trades  of  the  sword-and-bayonet-maker,  the 
rifle-maker,  the  cannon-founder,  and  in  large  measure  tlie 
powder-and-buUet-maker.  All  the  labor  employed  iu 
Government  and  private  factories  in  manufacturing 
wealth-iva^ting  contrivances — in  practically  making  the 
nation  so  much  poorer — will  theu  be  diverted  into  use- 
ful channels.  Further,  all  the  great  administrative 
stafT,  at  present  required  for  the  organisation  of  array, 
navy,  and  police,  will  likewise  be  liberated  :  and  all  the 
labor  employed  in  tent-making  and  barrack-building 
wdl  further  swell  the  record.  So  too  it  is  clear  that  the 
millions  annually  spent  in  building  and  in  maintaining  war 
vessels  will  be  left  clear  for  our  mei'cantile  marine  :  that 
is  to  say,  that,  for  the  same  annual  national  expenditure 
as  at  present,  we  should  have  at  our  disposal  a  largely 
mcreased  number  of  fully-equipped  ocean-going  steamers  ; 
or,  if  not  so  many  be  required,  we  should  annually  save 
several  millions  sterling. 

If  we  again  take  the  trade  of  wine-making  and  enquire 
how  much  labor  would  be  Sf't  free  by  abolishing  the 
greater  part  of  tbis  trade,  we  should  probably  get  an 
appalling  result.  Since,  however,  wine  is  not  made  in 
England,  and  since,  on  the  hypothesis,  we  have  provi- 
sionally  retained   beer  and   vins  ordinaires  as    Utopian 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  179 

drinks,  we  cannot  here  avail  ourselves  much  of  this 
argument.  But  it  is  clearly  relevant  to  include  in  our 
estimate  the  majority  of  the  wine-merchants  and  their 
clerks  and  servants  who  are  at  present  employed  in  the 
distribution  of  the  wine  :  and  also— since  it  is  clear  that 
semi-Utopians  who  drink  beer  will  not  drink  it  in  pot- 
houses— we  may  include  the  publicans,  barmen,  and 
barmaids,  employed  in  the  majority  of  public-houses, 
and  in  all  the  giu-palaces,  as  among  the  at-pi'esent- 
nseless  laborers.  It  may  startle  some  to  learn 
that  the  total  number  of  publicans  {i.e.,  landlords 
alone)  in  the  United  Kingdom  in  1881  was  12,855 
(besides  3,728  female  dittn),  there  being  no  fewer  than 
about  4,000  included  in  the  London  directory  alone: 
whilst  the  census-returns  farther  show  (in  England  and 
Wales)  5,758  cellarmen  and  7,467  wine-mercliants  and 
agents  :  we  might  add  that,  altho,  ex-hypothesi,  beer, 
like  light  wine,  is  accorded  to  our  Utopians,  yet  the  ex- 
cessive beer-drinking  of  to-day  will  certainly  be  diminished, 
and  therefor  the  census-returns  of  24,196  brewers  and 
9,473  maltsters  (England  and  Wales)  must  be  very 
largely  in  excess  of  the  country's  real  requirements. 
When  it  is  considered  that  many  of  these  figures  must  be 
multiplied  by  several  so  as  to  include,  i.g.,  the  barmen 
and  barmaids,  and  also  the  wine-merchants'  clerks,  it  will 
be  seen  that  the  total  amount  of  labor  locked  up  here 
is  very  considerable  indeed. 

One  more  instance.  Among  the  commercial  tendencies 
of  the  present  day  a  strong  one  is  that  which  sets  towards 
the  abolition  of  middlemen  and  agents.  More  and  more 
the  wholesale  dealers  or  producers  seem  inclined  to  deal 


i8o  Unproductive  Labor,  &c. 

directly  with  the  consumer,  thus  supplanting  the  inter- 
mediary. In  spite  of  the  indignation  thus  excited  in  the 
middleman,  and  the  suffering  often  perhaps  inflicted  upon 
him,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that,  so  far  as  workable, 
this  tendency  is  eminently  beneficial,  saving  loss  to  both 
jiroducer  and  consumer,  and  setting  free  so  much  more 
labor.  Anyone  who  will  calculate  the  number  of  agents, 
merchants,  and  other  middlemen,  in  the  London  directory, 
and  then  multiply  by  several  to  estimate  the  clerks,  and 
then  add  in  similar  estimates  (or  all  the  otherlarge  business- 
towns  in  the  kingdom,  will  perhaps  be  somewhat  aston- 
ished to  find  how  much  labor  is  locked  up  in  this  one 
kind  of  middleman-work  alone.  Add  thereto  all  the 
retail  shopkeepers  and  their  assistants,  and  then  sum  the 
total  !  1  Now  of  course  it  is  not  for  one  moment  con- 
tended that  all  this  vast  array  of  middlemen  .is  likely  to 
be  supplanted  :  but  it  is  contended  that  there  is  an  im- 
mense superfluity  of  such  workers  for  the  work  to  be 
done  •;  and  that  it  would  be  in  every  way  a  healthy 
symptom  could  one  see  a  considerable  thinning  of  their 
ranks.  To  take  but  one  class — tlie  insane  desire  of  almost 
everyone  in  the  lower  middleclass  near  London  to  get  his 
sons  into  a  city-office  where  they  will  slave  at  an  un- 
healthy occupation  for  bad  pay,  instead  of  teaching  them 
a  handicraft  or  emigi'ating  them — this  insane  procedure, 
we  say,  makes  it  every  year  more  difficult  for  London 
agents,  brokers,  and  such  like  middlemen  (whose  ranks 
are  steadily  swollen  by  this  stream  of  recruits)  to  obtain 
a  living ;  and  leads  to  the  cut-throat-competition  that  we 
all  know  of.  It  is  vital  to  remember  that,  altho  the  more 
'  Sec  infra,  p,  1S7. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  i8i 

manual  laborers  and  other  productive  workers  that  there 
are,  the  richer  grows  the  nation,  and  the  more  wealth 
there  is  to  be  distributed  among  them,  yet  almost  the 
inverse  holds  with  regard  to  the  middlemen.  For  these 
create  no  iota  of  wealth,  but  merely  assist  in  its  distribu- 
tion. Obviously  there  can  be  only  a  certain  grand  total 
available  as  wages  for  their  work ;  and  clearly  this  total 
must  be  a  function  of  the  total  wealth  created,  and  of  the 
difTerence  that  is  possible  between  the  cost  of  producing 
it,  and  the  price  that  the  consumer  is  willing  to  pay. 
Clearly,therefor,the  more  middlemen  that  there  are  anxious 
to  obtain  a  share  of  the  "middlemen's  wage-fund,"  the 
less  will  there  be  for  every  individual :  whilst  as  to  the 
obvious  remedy,  viz.,  to  increase  this  total  "  wage-fund  " 
by  raising  the  price  to  the  consumer — the  possibility  of  this 
is  negatived  by  the  very  eagerness  of  coinpetitiun  among 
the  middlemen. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that,  however  necessary  middlemen 
may  be,  the  nation  would  be  so  much  the  richer  if  it  were 
possible  to  get  the  same  distribution  without  them ;  for 
then  there  would  be  so  much  extra  labor  set  free  for 
wealth-creating,  and  so  many  the  fewer  to  be  hept  by  the 
nation.  Probably,  however,  in  a  large  measure,  this  is 
not  possible  ;  and  middlemen  are  to  sonle  extent  indis- 
pensable ;  but  clearly  every  additional  superfluous  middle- 
man represents  a  twofold  loss  to  the  nation.  Now  it  is 
probable  that,  were  the  competition  less  furious,  a  city- 
broker  would  earn  £400  a  year  as  easily  as  {i.e.,  with  no 
more  labor  than)  he  now  earns  £50.  If  this  be  so,  the 
inference  seems  clear  that  when,  as  now,  owing  to  the 
superfluity  of  middlemen,  this   £400  is  divided  among 


i82  Unproductive  Labor,  &c. 

eight  men  at  £oO  each,  there  is  a  \'G\'y  large  waste  of 
labor  that  ought  to  be  employed  in  wealth-producing  or 
in  research — with  concomitant  want  and  discomfort  to  all. 
A  precisely  similar  calculation  may  be  applied  to  the 
shops.  Whether  shops  will  ever  be  superseded  by  some 
better  mode  of  distribution  it  is  difficult  to  say ;  but  we 
may  take  it  as  a  safe  inference  that  they  are  indispensable 
to  such  a  state  of  society  as  ours.  Granting  this  however 
it  must  be  admitted  that  there  is  a  ridiculous  superfluity 
of  shops  at  present.  Just  as  in  the  city,  so  too  here, 
wherever  it  seems  possible  for  a  fourth  man  to  snatch  a 
living  by  proportionately  diminishing  the  profits  of  three 
established  shopkeepers,  we  find  a  fresh  shop  opened.  In 
the  same  road,  often  within  a  few  doors  of  one  another, 
we  may  find  two  or  throe  butchers,  bakers,  fruiterers, 
grocers,  and  so  on :  whereas  it  is  quite  certain  that  one 
of  each  trade  would  fully  suffice  to  the  wants  of  i:he 
neighborhood,  and  with  a  far  greater  profit  to  the  shop- 
keepers. Let  anyone  who  cares  to  follow  up  this  argument 
make  a  census  of  all  the  shops  in  his  own  village  or  town 
of  so  many  thousand  inhabitants ;  and  then  calculate 
wlietlier  even  a  third  of  them  are  necessary — even  tlio 
he  leave  two  or  three  of  each  trade  so  as  to  ensure  healthy 
competition,  and  to  preclude  inattention,  overcharging, 
and  incivility.  Here  again  if  we  mnltiply  by  the  number 
of  towns  in  the  kingdom  we  shidl  find  a  truly  considerable 
quantity  of  labor  that  may  be  set  free  for  wealth- 
producing.^ 

'  There  is  often  a  ridiculous  denunciation  of  the  middleman, 
qiia  middleman,  as  a  rnpacious  tiend  who  robs  the  producer  of 
his  luodts.     Clearly  there  is  uo  uiorai  question  necessarily  in- 


Unproductive  Labor,  &-c.  183 

Tf  now  all  the  siipplan table  trades  and  occupations 
referred  to  be  considered,  and  the  numbers  employed  in 
each  estimated,  it  will  be  found  that  a  truly  gigantic 
total  is  obtained — and  all  these  men  are  at  present  truly 
being  kept  by  the  nation  generally :  regarded  thus,  how 
gigantic  a  tax  do  we  not  labor  under  !  Now  if  the  keep 
of  these  men  were  simply  taken  off  our  hands,  the  rela- 
tive wealth  of  each  one  of  us  would  be  very  greatly 
increased;  but  when  we  reflect  that  the  majority  of  this 
great  body  of  workers  would  also  become  ivealth-creators, 
we  shall  see  how  much  increase  were  then  added  to  the 
national  wealth  :  whilst  by  the  work  of  the  remainder, 
set  free  for  teaching,  for  scientific  research,  and  for  art- 
production,  a  vast  indirect  increase  would  be  (eventually) 
made  to  the  national  wealth,  and  a  great  immediate 
increase  to  the  national  happiness. 

And  now  let  us  endeavor  to  sum  up  the  results  that 
we  have  obtained  with  reference  to  the  numbers  of  the 
vari(His  tiseless-and-unproductiue^  classes,  in  order  to 
ascertain  how  many  of  the  nation  are  kept  at  the  expense 
of  the  workers,  when  they  ought  to  be  working  at  wealrh- 
creating  themselves.  It  seems  almost  superfluous  to 
remark  that  these  results  will  be  excedingly  rough  and 
approximate  only — even  more  so  of  course  than  the 
figures  on  which  they  are  based — and  can  make  no  kind 
of  pretension    to    any    statistical    accuracy.       Were    we 

volverl.  So  long  as  no  better  machinery  of  distribution  be 
invented,  tlie  middleman  is  a  necessity — and  must  liave  his 
prorits.     Find  a  better  method  of  distribution,  and  he  disappears. 

^  An  unproductive  worker  inay  be  more  useful  than  100  pro- 
ductive workers— if  he  be  an  intellectual  or  ardstic  genius  :  we 
Sjji.'uk  uf  the  useieds  aon-proclucers. 


184  Unproductive  Labor,  &c. 

engaged  on  a  professedly  statistical  investigation  tliis 
would  amount  to  a  confession  of  unpardonable  inac- 
curacy :  but  since  our  business  is  not  with  a  quantitative 
statistical  enquiry  into  the  actual  facts  of  to-day,  but 
rather  with  a  qualitative  enquiry  into  the  feasibility  of 
an  improved  social  state — into  which  enquiry  we  have 
introduced  these  present-day  approximate  statistics  only 
to  show  that  we  have  a  good  general  basis  for  our 
general  calculations  ;  to  indicate  the  kind  of  procedure 
wliich,  as  it  seems  to  us,  should  be  adopted  in  specula- 
tions on  the  advent  of  Utopia ;  and  to  render  our  argu- 
ment less  vague  and  more  real  to  the  reader ;  since 
finally  many  of  our  figures  are  necessarily  ten  years 
behind  date,  whilst  the  rapidly  increasing  population 
must  introduce  continual  errors  into  not  only  the  absolute 
numbers,  but,  probably  into  the  projiortions  also — it  seems 
to  us  that  the  probability  of  introducing  errors  of  even, 
for  instance,  20  per  cent,  into  the  results,  need  not  deter 
us  from  summing  up  our  estimates  in  this  preliminary 
and  te  tative  enquiry. 

Let  us  procede  then  with  our  figures.  We  first,  evidently, 
knock  ofl:'  the  whole  of  the  army,  which  we  will  take  to 
be  represented  by  105,000  ^  men  from  England  and  Wales; 

1  To  make  these  estimates  correctly,  without  details  of  which 
we  are  not  in  possession,  is  a  matter  of  difhculty.  The  census- 
returns  for  1881  report,  for  the  army,  87,000  men  actually  in 
England  and  Wales  at  that  time  ;  but  this  figure  seems  to  in- 
clude certain  non-effectives.  On  the  other  hand,  Whittaker 
states  the  total  etTective  force  of  the  British  army  (1886),  includ- 
ing drafts  abroad  and  in  the  colonies  (but  excluding  the  Indian 
regular  establishment),  at  141,000.  Now,  since  the  men — wher- 
ever stationed — are  drawn  from,  and  paid  for  by,  Britain,  it  seems 
clear  that  this  latter  figure  is  the  proper  basis  for  our  calculations. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  185 

and  the  navy,  which  will  be  similarly  represented  by 
53,000  men.  The  police-force  is  returned  (1881)  at 
32,500  (besides  female  detectives,  etc.):  if  we  retain 
the  odd  2,500  for  municipal  organising-purposes,  etc., 
this  represents  a  balance  of  30,000  men  wasted.  Then 
we  have  the  "  irregular  police  "  of  ticket-clerks,  ticket- 
collectors,  omnibus-conductors,  etc.,  whom  we  have  al- 
ready estimated  at  about  50,000  :  to  this — for  the 
reasons  already  explained  ^ — -we  may  add  perhaps  half  of 
the  present  cabmen,  or  15,000  men. 

Next,  with  regard  to  the  absurd  excess  of  merely  wasteful 
servants,  we  find  72,000  domestic  grooms  and  coachmen, 
74,000  domestic  gardeners,  and  56,000  "  indoor-male- 
servants" — that  is,  we  suppose,  flunkies.  Now,  it  seems 
to  us  that  if  we  knock  off,  as  merely  wasteful  excres- 
cences, 50,000  of  the  first,  55,000  of  the  second,  and 
50,000  of  the  third,  -vre  are  dealing  very  gently  with 
these  non-producers  :  ^  to  these  we  must,  of  course,  add 
the  complete  tale  of  12,600  gamekeepers. 

But'  then  the  army  is  recruited  from  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland,  whilst — for  simplicity — we  are  at  present  estimating 
only  for  England  and  Wales  :  this  being  so,  the  army-tigures 
should  be  reduced  in  order  to  correspond  with  the  population  of 
England  and  Wales  only.  This  reduction  we  have  made  in  the 
ratio  of  the  respective  populations,  thus  obtaining  as  the  result 
for  England  and  Wales  about  105,000  men.  By  a  similar 
process  we  have  reduced  the  navy-figures  from  70,000  to  53,000. 
'i  hat,  anyhow,  our  estimates  in  this  case  err  by  understatement 
rather  tliau  by  overstatement  is  plain  if  we  take  into  account  the 
large  number  of  militia,  etc.,  whose  time  is  partly  occupied — i.e., 
wasted — by  their  annual  turn  of  soldiering.  Probably,  to  do  our 
argument  full  justice,  we  should  need  to  add  several  thousands  to 
this  estimate  of  158, GQO  soldiers  and  sailors. 

1  F.  18. 

*  Of  the  million  and  a  quarter  women-servants   we   take  no 


1 86  Unproductive  Labor y  &c. 

We  next",  come  to  the  class  of  men  encraired  in  the 
manufacture  and  sale  of  alcoholic  drinks.  Since  wine  is 
not  made — or  rather  not  grown — in  England,  of  course 
we  are  unaffected  by  what  would  become  an  immense 
item  in  a  parallel  French  or  Italian  calculation  :  and 
since  we  have  provisionally  admitted  beer  and  light  wines 
into  Utopia,  we  cannot  knock  off  all  the  brewers  and 
wine-merchants;  but  we  can,  nevertheless,  very  consider- 
ably diminish  their  numbers.  If  we  admit  that  at  least 
three  or  four  times  as  much  beer  is  drunk  as  should  be 
(which  is  probably  very  much  understating  it),  and  that 
semi-Utopians  will  not  sit  in  a  pot-house  to  drink  any 
beer  that  they  may  require,  we  may  fairly  reckon  that 
out  of  the  9,500  maltsters,  and  24,200  brewers,  at  least 
6,000  and  16,000  respectively  may  be  eliminated  in 
company  with  the  whole  13,000  male-beersellers.^  Then 
as  to  the  7,500  wine-merchants,  and  5,700  cellai'men, 
these  may  probably  be  i-educed  to  say  2,500,  and  1,700 
respectively,  thus  yielding  vis  8,000  more  superfluities. 
We  must  specially  point  out,  however,  that,  for  various 
reasons,  these  intoxicant-estimates  absurdly  understate 
the  real  strength  of  our  argument ;  for  we  have  no  means 
of  estimating,  for  instance,  the  large  number  of  carmen 
and  others  engaged  in  the  conveyance  of  drink  :  whilst, 
if  after  all    it   should    be   concluded    that   Utopia  will  be 

count  for  the  present  :  anil  we  also  leave  the  hotel-servants, 
male  ami  female,  entirely  alone  :  wliich  is  a  very  geueious  and 
self-denying  proceding  ou  our  part. 

1  Of  course,  this  figure  ought  to  be  very  much  increased  to  take 
count  of  potmen  and  other  assistants  ;  but  we  have  no  data.  In 
addition  to  these  13,000,  there  are  a  large  number  of  womeu  re- 
turned as  beersellers,  who,  of  course,  ecj^ually  ret^uire  pi/trnen. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  187 

entirely  teetotal,  our  figures  must  be  increased  propor- 
tionately. In  obvious  connection,  however,  with  these 
drink-estimates,  we  must  add  on  the  enormous  total  of 
180,000^  in-door  paupers  to  the  list  of  superfluities. 

Next  as  regards  tlie  disposal  of  middlemen.  The 
census  (1881)  returns  30,700  brokers  and  agents,  175,000 
clerks,  etc.,  besides  35,470  commercial  travellers  ;  and, 
on  the  principles  that  we  have  already  explained,  we 
propose  to  knock  off  certainly  two-thirds  of  these  figures, 
viz.,  20,000  and  115,000  respectively;  while  with  regard 
to  the  travellers,  since  we  are  quite  sure  that  in  a  healthier, 
less  greedy,  and  better  informed,  social  state  these  men 
will  be  in  a  twofold  sense  unnecessary,  we  propose  to 
eliminate  practically  all  of  them^^.e.,  30,000.  As  to  the 
shops,  we  are  in  a  considerable  difficulty,  owing  to  the 
want  of  data.  The  census  returns  the  general  or  in 
definite  shopkeepers  at  29,500  (besides  17,000  women), 
but  this  is  only  one  item,  and  we  are  no  nearer  to  the 
mark.  We  have,  however,  been  favored  with  a  private 
calculation  which  puts  down  the  shopkeepers  in  a  certain 
town  as  two  per  cent,  of  the  population.  If  we  assume 
only  half  of  these  to  be  men,  and  that  for  the  country 
at  large  the  proportion  shall  be  1  man  in  150,  this 
would'  give  us  for  England  and  Wales  a  total  of  160,000 
shopmen.  Considering,  however,  that  the  census  returns 
80,000  butchers  and  meat-salesmen  alone,  this  calculation 
would  appear  to  be  absuidly  below  the  mark.  We  must, 
however,  take  it,  such  as  it  is,  and  if  the  similar  propur- 

'  This  includes  an  unknown  number  of  pauper-children  in 
scliools  •  l)nt  this  e'  cor  must  be  more  than  balanced  by  the 
600,000  uut-door  paupers  who  are  partly  kept  by  the  nation. 


1 88  Unproductive  Labor^  &c. 

tion  of  two-thirds  be  eliminated  hence  also — which  seems 
a  very  mild  estimate — we  get  a  saving  of  107,000  men. 
To  this  we  may  add  the  1G,000  jewellers  already  referred* 
to,  and  obviously  7,000  at  least  out  of  the  7,522  gun- 
smiths :  whilst  equally  clearly  we  may  add  the  whole 
29,500  costermongers  and  streetsellers,i  who  earn  a  pre- 
carious existence  in  a  society  where  they  are  "kept"  to 
no  sufficient  purpose. 

Besides  tliese  main  groups  there  must  be  an  immense 
number  more  of  non-producers  distributed  in  larger  or 
smaller  proportions  among  a  multitude  of  trades  and 
occupations  from  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  disinter 
them  ;  ^  e.g.^  the  builders,  "  decorators,"  painters,  etc., 
etc.,  employed  on  useless  or  wasteful  work,  but  who  can- 
not be  disentangled  from  the  general  assemblage  of  such 
workers  ;  we  can,  therefor,  only  entreat  our  readers  to 
bear  in  mind  that  our  total  estimates,  large  as  they  may 
appear,  must  be  ridiculously  helow  their  legitimate  figure. 
As  a  concluding  item  we  will  put  on  25,000  for  the  rich 
unemployed  who  have  to  be  keipt  by  the  community,  and 
do  no  adequate  intellectual,  esthetic,  or  philanthropic, 
work  in  return. 

Now  let  us  tabulate  these  fiaures  : — 


Labor  wasted  in  the  Army             in  England 

10.">.000 

Navy                        , , 

53,000 

Police                      ,, 

.30,000 

Cabmen    and     ■ 
Ticket-coUee-  \  ,, 

65,000 

tors,  etc.           1 

Grooms    and     / 
Coachmen        \    " 

50,000 

'  There  were,  in  ISSl,  17,000  women  similarly  engaged  also. 
-  Besides  many  small  groups  such  as  the  700  artificial-flower- 
makers — an  utteily  useless  class  of  anti-esthetic  purveyors. 


Unprodicctive  Labor,  &c.  189 

Gardeners  „  55^000 

flunkies  „  50^000 

Gamekeepers  „  12,000 
W]ne  and  Beer  ) 

Trade                \  '»  43,0n0 

Indoor  Paupers  „  180,000 


Commercial 


I 


(wholesale)  (    "  165,000 

Shops,  etc.  „  ]3o,ooO 

btreet-sellers  ,,  oy  ^qq 

"  Upper  10  )  "  ' 

Thousand"  |    '»  23,000 

993,000 
In  round  numbers  tlien,  it  would  seem  that  somewhere 
about  one  million  men,  with  their  loives  and  children,  have 
to  be  kept  by  the  community  in  order  that  they  may  be 
employed  in  police  work,  in  producing  or  purveying  waste- 
ful and  unnecessary  luxuries,  in  functioning  as  superfluous 
middlemen,    in  ministering  to   the  selfish  and  wasteful 
amusements  of  a  few,  or  in  doing  nothing.     Now  what 
proportion  do  these  million  "drones"  bear  to  the  workers 
-the  wealth-creators  at  large?     We  presume  that  a<.ri- 
cultural.sts,  industrialists,  railway  employes  and  carters 
with  fishermen  and  sailors,  may  be  taken  as  a  fairly  ex- 
haustive account  of  them.     Tlie  fioures  for  the  last  two 
classes  are  not  in  our  possession,  but  they  must  be  com- 
paratively small  when  placed  alongside  of  the  other  items 
which    are    1,318,344,    4,795,178,    and    something    like 
500,0001   respectively,   giving    us,   therefor,    a   total   of 
>  Tne  censns.f5gures  for  the  last  item  were  (1881)  as  follows  — 
Conveyance  of  men,  goods,  and  messages— 
Railways  ...  ...         y^^f^^ 

^^^^  -  ...         165,854 

Jf'''"''^?^         ,     -  ...  27,847 

Messages  and  porterage  ...         136,775 

652,000 


190  Unproductive  Labor,  &c. 

about  6,613,000  me/i^  engaged  in  the  creation  of  material 
wealth.  At  this  rate,  then,  every  worker  has  to  keep 
not  only  himself  and  his  famil}"  but  also  one-sixi  h-and-a-half 
of  another  man  and  his  family — that  is  to  say  that  about 
one  hour  and  a  half  per  day  of  his  work  goes  to  support- 
ing useless  non-pruducers.  But  really  there  are  two 
(fortunately  opposing)  disturbing  elements  to  be  taken 
into  account  :  firstly,  that  in  addition  to  the  men  there 
ai'e  over  one  and  a  half  million  women  engaged  in  in- 
dustrial  pursuits,  and  64,000  in  agricultural — which 
fact  not  only  increases  the  workers  to  over  8  millions, 
but  entirely  disarranges  our  method  of  calculating  by 
men  as  representing  families  :  secondly,  however,  an  im- 
mense 'proportion  of  these  ivorkers,  both  agricultural  and 
industrial,  are  enga<jed  in  the  production  of  luxuries  of  one 
sort  or  another  that  are  destined  to  he  unproductively  and 
wastefidly  consumed :  these  men  clearly  are  really  in  the 
same  category  as  the  ivine-growers,  gardeners,  jewellers,  and 
other  suj)erjtuities  ivhom  ive  have  struck  out :  they  do  not 
permanently  increase  the  national  wealth,  but  are  ultim- 
ately kept  at  the  expense  of  the  nation  just  as  are  their 
confreres.  Now,  to  introduce  this  correction  would  not  only 
enormously  duninish  the  8,000,000  true  "  workers  "  {i.e., 
wealth-creators),  but  would  equally  increase  the  1,000,000 

The  item  011  icate.r  w-oulil  inclmle  some,  but  only  some,  of  the 
mercantile  marine.  Tiiese  figures  are,  however,  in  every  case, 
far  too  high  for  tlie  purpose  of  our  calculation,  which  requires  the 
actual  wealth-creating  acctasorits  only:  theiefor  we  liave  ttiUen 
5UU,00U  at  hazard. 

^  According  to  a  very  recent  calculation  the  total  workers  of 
the  United  Kingdom,  including  women  and  children,  number 
13,200,000. 


Unproductive  Labor ^  Src.  191 

superfluities,  so  that  the  ratio  ivould  he  doxihly  al^ected. 
Unfortunately  it  is  utterly  impossible  for  us  to  make  any, 
however  approximate,  estimate  even  of  the  result  that 
would  thus  be  obtained  :  but  as  a  mere  guess — to  which, 
of  course,  no  objective  value  whatever  attaches — we 
should  think  it  highly  possible  that  the  ratio  niiglit  be- 
come 7:  2,  or  even  6:  3,  in  which  latter  case  every 
worker  (i.e.,  every  wealth-creator)  spends  a  third  of  his 
working  time  in  supporting  useless  or  superfluous  other 
jDeople  !  How  vital  is  the  bearing  of  such  enquiries  upon 
the  promotion  of  Utopia  becomes  very  evident :  for,  as- 
suming an  8  hours'  day  to  suffice  as  an  average  workmg- 
day  now,  it  could  be  replaced  by  a  5|  hours'  day  !  ^ 

But  really,  however,  we  have  so  far  been  concerned 
with  only  one  of  several  components  ;  for  we  have  shown 
merely  that  these  million  superfluities  entail  an  increase 
of  X  hours  on  the  general  working-day  to  supply  their 
keep  :  their  simple  removal  would  lighten  the  working- 
day  by  X  hours ;  but  there  is  more  to  account  for.  First, 
if  they  became  direct  wealth-creators  themselves,  the 
national  wealth  would  be  increased  12  per  cent,  at  once; 
secondly,  if  the  unknown  Y  number  of  the  8,000,000 
workers,  who  are  at  present  making  luxuries  only,  were 
similarly  told  ofi"  for  useful  work  there  would  be  an  annual 
increase  of  2Y  per  cent,  more  wealth  ;  thirdly,  in  addition 
to  the  labor  at  present  wasted  on  producing  luxuries,  there 
is  a  huge  waste  of  material  wealth— &&  cual,  iron,  manures, 

1  It  is  very  much  to  be  desired  that  some  competent  statistician, 
with  the  data  at  his  command,  would  undertake  an  exact  quanti- 
tative investigation  of  thic  character  .  his  resuhs  would  be  iiivaiu- 
able  to  sociolo;j;ists. 


192  Unproductive  Labor ^  &c. 

etc.,  etc. — and  of  land  ;  this  being  saved  would  represent 
another  Z  per  cent,  more  added  (i.e.,  saved)  to  the 
national  wealth.  We  thus  get  at  this  rate  an  annual 
wealth-increase  of  12  +  2Y  +  Z  per  cent,  more  than  at 
present — where  Y  and  Z  cannot  be  excedingly  small 
figures  :  but  since  the  increase  of  wealth  is  cumulative, 
and  waste  would  be  greatly  circumscribed,  the  nation 
would  tend  to  double  its  wealth  at  short  intervals. 

"But" — will  probably  be  the  retort — "what  is  to  be  the 
good  of  hoarding  up  and  continually  increasing  the 
national  wealth  if  it  must  not  be  wasted  on  luxuries  1 
You  would  presently  be  overburdened  by  your  wealth  and 
have  no  use  for  it."  Exactly  so — if  the  nation  were  to 
keep  on  steadily  increasing  its  wealth  at  so  much  per 
cent,  per  year;  but  it  would  not — in  a  semi- Utopia.  Altho 
necessarily  emphasising  this  tendency  of  wealth  to  ac- 
cumulate, under  the  conditions  postulated,  we  do  not 
anticipate  that  play  would  be  allowed  to  such  tendency, 
but  rather  that  it  would  be  taken  advantage  of  to  de- 
crease the  working-day  until  wealth  no  longer  tended  to 
accumulate — until  the  annual  increment  of  wealth  exactly 
balanced  the  annual  consumjytion,  given  a  definite  scale  of 
expense.  Such  margin  of  wealth  measures  the  possibility 
of  reducing  the  length  of  work-time;  or,  in  other  words, 
the  abbreviation  of  the  general  working-day  must  be  a 
function  of  the  diff"erence  l)etween  the  total  wealth  that 
would  annually  accrue  at  the  present  time  with  the 
present  working-day  (supposing  all  idlers  and  all  useless 
non-producers  or  producers  of  wasteful  luxuries  to  be 
engaged  in  productive  work)  and  the  total  wealth  that 
would  be  annually   required   for  the   expenses   of  such 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  193 

simple  and  refined  living  as  we  have  already  pointed  to 
— populations  being  supposed  numerically  identical  and 
new  inventions  of  labor-economising  machinery  being 
ignored.^ 

To  render  this  quite  clear  we  will  take  a  supposititious 
concrete  example  of  the  simplest  character.  Let  us 
hypothecate  a  nation  whose  annual  increment  of  wealth 
may  be  valued  at  2,000  millions  sterling,  created  by  the 
labors  of  6  million  adult  workers  employed  for  8  hours 
net  per  day,  and  supporting,  in  addition  to  themselves 
and  their  families,  2  million  idlers,  useless  non-pi'oducers, 
and  luxury-mongers,  and  their  families ;  and  let  us  farther 
suppose  that  the  total  annual  wealth-increment  of  the 
nation,  if  equally  divided  and  all  carefully  applied,  would 
more  than  suffice  for  all  the  wants  of  a  simple  semi- 
UtojMan  life.  Now,  supposing  that  the  2  million  idlers 
and  useless  woi-kers  are  diverted  to  useful  and  productive 
work,  and  that  they  create  on  the  average  the  same 
amount  of  wealth  as  any  other  2  million  of  their  coun- 
trymen, then  it  is  clear  that  the  total  annual  increment 
of  wealth  becomes  raised  from  2,000  millions  to  2,666^ 
millions  odd.  But  in  consonance  with  our  hypothesis  we 
must  furthermore  remember  that  indulgence  in  waste 
and  luxury  involves  a  great  loss  of  material  ivealth — a 
consumption  of  material  wealth — as  well  as  a  waste  of 
labor :  ^  this  amount  we  will  put  down  as  represented 
by   a  sixth   of  the   annual   wealth-income,   viz.,   by   333 

'  Clearly  any  such  inventions  would  additionally  shorten  the 
working-day. 

2Six  millions  raise  £2000  millions;therefor, 2  raise  -""''  millions. 

'  E.g.,  the  loss  of  coal  and  iron  in  manufacturing  luxuries  and 
war-material,  etc. 


194  Unproductive  Labor,  &€. 

millions  odd.  We  arrive,  then,  at  this  result :  the  annual 
wealth-income  under  present  conditions  is  taken  at  2,000 
millions,  of  which  a  sixth  is  wasted — the  remainder  being 
sufficient,  if  equally  divided,  to  maintain  the  given  popu- 
lation in  a  state  of  semi-Utopian  comfort :  by  the  labor 
of  the  2  million  fresh  productive  workers  the  wealth- 
income  is  further  increased  from  2,000  to  2,066  millions. 
Now  since  a  general  8-hours-day  is  given  as  producing 
in  this  reformed  state  2,666  millions,  and  since  1,667 
(2,000  —  333)  millions  are  sufficient  for  the  wants  of  the 
population,  it  is  clear  that  the  w-orking-day  may  be  re- 
duced in  this  proportion,  viz.,  from  8*hours  to  5  hours  ! 
This  very  crude  and  hypothetical  example  m;\v  suffice  to 
show  the  kind  of  reasoning  upon  which  speculations  con- 
cerning such  social  amelioration  should — as  it  seems  to 
us — pi'ocede.  Whatever  new  inventions  or  discoveries  may 
be  made,  whatever  fresh  sources  ^  of  wealth  laid  open — 

'In  England  the  average  total  yearly  income  of  each  member 
of  the  nation  is  said  to  bj  £83  {For/iiiijh/li/,  Aug.,  189.3).  As- 
suming an  average  family  to  consist  of  tive  persons,  this  would  give 
an  average  yearly  income  of  £16.)  per  family.  Assuming  all  the 
economies  proposed  in  the  text,  the  elimination  of  the  million  or 
two  useles.-i  and  unproductive  drones  or  workers— witii  the 
consequent  great  increase  of  wealtii — it  seems  very  far  from  im- 
possible to  raise  this  average  income  witliin  a  very  reasonable 
time  from  £165  to  a  satisfactory  Utopian  minimum — could  we 
only  render  the  average  and  every  actual  the  same.  According 
to  Mr.  Giffen  the  annual  savings  of  the  United  Kingdom  are 
about  16  per  cent,  of  the  annual  income  of  the  nation  now  :  it 
seems  to  us  that,  were  the  millions  wasted  on  drink  and  other 
useless  luxuries  and  frivolities  alone,  added  to  our  savings,  these 
would  be  perhaps  doubled  at  once — and  that  would  be  sufficient 
to  raise  the  average  wages  of  every  ivorker  in  the  United  Kingdom 
from  £48  to  £66.  It  is  stated  that  loo  millions  are  annually 
spent  on  drink  in  the  United  Kingdom.  This  item  alone  would 
nearlj-  supply  the  doubling  required. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  195 

by  so  much  may  the  advent  of  a  minimum  working-day 
be  expedited  :  but  without  any  other  machinery  than  we 
ah-eady  possess,  we  can  thus  clearly  perceive  the  feasibility 
of  an  approximation  toward  semi-Utopia — if  only  men 
would  be  moderately  unselfish,  unwasteful,  and  rea- 
sonable.-^ It  is  mainly  human  nature  that  has  to  be 
changed. 

But  here,  returning  from  our  supposititious  state  to 
England,  a  difficulty  at  least  must  be  conceded  that,  no 
doubt,  the  thoughtful  reader  sighted  many  chapters  ago: 
how  far  it  may  be  satisfactorily  met  is  now  to  be  con- 
sidered. We  have  accounted  for  at  least  a  million 
living  superfluities  who  are  kept  at  the  general  expense 
of  the  workers ;  and  we  have  dwelt  upon  the  great  in- 
crease that  would  be  made  in  the  national  wealth  were 
only  all  these  men  to  become  wealth-producers  likewise  : 
but  we  may  be  met  by  the  retort  that  to  turn  these 
men  into  the  labor-market  would  be  to  inflict  a  cruel 
injury,  and  not  a  benefit,  upon  the  workers — that  al- 
ready every  craft  or  trade  is  overcrowded,  and  every- 
where men  are  crying  out  for  employment — 

"Every  gate  is  thronged  with  suitors  ;  all  the  markets  overflow." 

1  It  may  not  be  superfluous  to  utter  a  warning  against  the 
fallacies  into  which  one  is  very  apt  to  fall  in  such  speculations — 
unless  one  be  very  careful  to  avoid  confusion  between  the  proper- 
ties of  wealth  and  wealtli-symbols — i.e.,  money — and  also  to  avoid 
arguing  by  mere  multiplication — the  fallacy  of  composition — from 
one  man  to  a  nation  and  a  world.  Perhaps  we  may  be  allowed 
to  point  out  by  the  way  how  the  labors  of  one  generation  may 
render  possible  a  permanent  diminution  of  l.ibor  for  future  gene- 
rations—we mean  by  the  construction  of  railways,  docks,  etc., 
by  works  of  irrigation  and  reclamation,  and,  in  short,  by  the 
execution  of  practically  indestructible  works. 


196  Unproductive  Labor,  &c. 

— so  that  to  turn  a  million  more  loose  would  make  cou- 
fusion  worse  confounded ;  that,  therefor,  altho  our 
present  social  practice  of  employing  superfluous  servants, 
etc.,  be  very  wasteful,  yet — looking  at  the  individuals — 
it  offers  a  method  of  distributing  national  wealth  rather 
less  unevenly  than  would  otherwise  be  the  case :  and, 
finally,  that  our  assumptions  implicitly  involve  the 
fallacy  that  the  more  men,  the  richer  the  nation,  whereas 
a  population  may  easily  outgrow  its  means  of  subsistence. 
Now  in  reply  to  these  objections  we  have  first  of  all, 
of  course,  to  fully  admit — as  everyone  since  Malthus  has 
necessarily  admitted — that  a  population  may  very  well 
increase  beyond  its  means  of  subsistence — in  a  wide 
sense ;  that,  therefor,  conceivably  there  might,  perhaps, 
be  a  limiting  case  found  when  it  would  be  of  no  benefit 
to  the  national  wealth  to  make  its  idlers  woi'k — biit  we 
deny  that  England  has  reached  this  stage :  and  we  also 
admit  that  the  difficulty  is  complicated  by  the  fact  that 
our  social  ideal  is  not  the  mere  increase  of  the  total 
national  wealth,  but  its  more  equal  distribution.  If 
everybody  were  ideally  unselfish,  and  if  the  "  Laws  "  of 
Supply  and  Demand,  Competition,  etc.,  did  not  exist, 
then  to  double  the  number  of  the  workers  by  knocking 
off  an  equivalent  number  of  idlers  would — in  a  society 
where  wealth  had  reached  its  maximum  annual  yield- — 
simply  halve  the  working-days  of  all :  but  in  our  society 
of  the  present  it  would  also  at  first — one  might  think — ■ 
halve  the  wages  too,  and  benefit  only  the  capitalists  and 
millionaires :  but,  nevertheless,  altho  conceding  these 
difficulties,  we  must  set  off  several  considerations  against 
them. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  197 

Firstly,  to  be  merely  rid  of  so  many  drones,  whom 
they  at  present  have  to  keep,  would  be  a  great  gain  to 
the  workers,  even  were  there  no  room  for  a  single  extra 
workman ;  for  this  would  render  possible — as  will  appear 
in  a  moment — the  ultimate  raising  of  their  wages. 

Secondly,  even  if  our  own  country  afforded  no  more 
scope  for  increasing  the  annual  output  of  wealth,  yet  it 
were  still  possible  to  colonise  with  great  profit  many — 
at  present — unoccupied  or  insufficiently  occupied  portions 
of  the  earth's  surface :  the  wealth  that  is  annually  wasted 
on,  e.g.,  useless  servants,  would  more  than  suffice  for 
their  emigration-expenses  ;  and  the  wealth  created  by 
them  in  their  new  land  would  enable  them  to  repay 
their  expenses,  and  would,  of  course,  react  beneficially 
upon  trade  at  home.^ 

But,  thirdly,  neglecting  the  possibility  of  emigration, 
and  supposing  that  a  demand  for  luxuries  and  extrava- 
gances no  longer  exists,  and  that  their  former  ministrants 
are  to  be  distributed  among  the  ranks  of  the  workers 
with  the  intention  of  lessening  the  day's  work  fur  the 
output  of  so  much  total  national  wealth,  is  it  so  certain 
that  wages  must  be  generally  lowered  in  accordance  with 
the  usual  processes  formulated  by  economics  ?  The 
assumptions  upon  which  we  are  preceding  must  not  be 
forgotten.  Let  us  take  now  a  group  of  men  with  £500 
a  year  each,  who  at  present  spend  £300  sensibly,  £100 
wastefully,  and  save  £100:  now,  under  the  new  regime,  the 

1  We  are  not  assuming  any  system  of  State-aided  emigration, 
but  simply  tliat  the  wealth,  which  capitalists  at  present  waste 
upon  luxuries,  would  enable  them  to  assist  the  emigration  of  the 
ex-luxury-produuers  to  u  colony — as  a  commercial  speculation. 


198  Unproductive  Labor,  &c. 

only  thinj^  they  can  do  with  their  formerly  wasted  £100  is 
to  save  it.  But  the  sum  of  all  these  savings  constitutes 
tiie  ivages-fund  or  capital  of  the  country;  and,  if  that  be 
so  much  increased,  the  wages  of  the  laborers  can  be 
affurded  an  increase,  or  the  same  wages  can  be  continued 
to  an  increased  number  of  laborers  working  a  shorter 
day  and  producing  only  the  original  total  wealth.  But 
it  may  be  retorted  that  our  friends  will  be  quite  content 
now  to  earn  only  £4u0  a  year,  and  will,  therefor,  shorten 
their  own  day's-work  by  a  fifth  :  or  that  by  saving  £200 
a  year  they  will  be  enabled  to  retire  from  work  and  live 
on  their  investments  so  much  the  earlier.  True — and  in 
so  far  the  sum  total  of  happiness  will  be  increased,  and 
an  approximation  made  by  so  much  to  an  Utopian  state 
— but  are  these  £500-a-year-men  supposed  to  be  wealth- 
creators  themselves  or  professional  men,  merchants,  and 
what  not  1  If  the  former,  then  as  every  one  of  them 
X'etires  there  is  room  for  an  ex-superfluity  to  take  his 
place  as  wealth-creator  :  but  if  the  latter,  then  his  work- 
ing more  or  less  does  not  affect  the  national  wealth  but 
merely  the  distribution:^  we  must  beware  of  that  prime 
fallacy  of  confusing  wealth  and  wealth-symbols. 

But,  indeed,  fourthly  and  lastly,  we  may  point  out 
that  the  causes  to  whose  ethcacy  we  have  all  along  attri- 

'  Really  all  these  questions  are  very  complicated,  in  that  each 
interweaves  with  several  others :  it  is,  however,  vital  to  remember 
what  assumptions  one  is  aiguing  from  and  to  admit  no  fresh 
assumptions  that  are  contradictory  to  them :  if  we  start  from  a 
postulate  of  semi-Utopian  general  morality  we  cannot  allow  later 
assumptions  of  motives,  such  as  greediness,  etc.,  incompatible 
with  semi-Utopian  morals.  This  caution  emphatically  applies  to 
the  discussion  now  in  hand. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &"€.  199 

buted  the  future  disappearance  of  waste-mongers  and  the 
shorteuinof  of  the  working  day,  partly  by  means  of  the 
influx  of  fresh  workers,  are  themselves  incomjyatible  with 
this  alleged  difficulty  of  preventing  a  corresponding  grand 
fall  in  wages.  For,  firstly,  we  have  prophesied  a  gradual 
abandonment  of  luxuries  in  that  the  rising  wages  of 
labor  will  render  them  too  expensive ;  in  whicii  case 
clearly  the  assumed  tendency  of  wages  to  a  steady  rise 
will  cover  the  wages  of  the  fresh  workers  :  and,  secondly, 
we  have  appealed  to  men,  as  a  matter  of  ethics,  to  give 
ixp  these  wasteful  and  stupid  luxuries;  now  self-evidently, 
if  a  class  of  men  have  sufficient  love  for  social  good  and 
human  welfare  to  give  up  their  luxuries,  they  are  not 
the  men  to  cut  down  their  employes'  wages  along  with 
their  working-hours.  So  that  after  all,  however  we  look 
at  it,  this  difficulty  of  employing  ex-waste-suppliers  really 
vanishes  if  we  conceive  the  somewhat  complicated  pro- 
blem clearly  and  distinctly — above  all  avoiding  the  fatal 
fallacy  of  assuming  contradictory  premises  and  crediting 
a  semi-Utopian  state  with  anti-Utopian  attributes.  As 
we  have  already  said,  Utopianism  is  alivays  consistent  with 
Utopia.  For  the  rest — without  doubt  the  great  master- 
key  to  all  these  problems  is  a  vivid  realisation  of  the 
truth  that  a  demand  for  commodities  is  not  a  demand  for 
labor.  '^ 

'  Altho  we  have  not  followed  up  the  emigration-question 
fartlier,  it  is  of  course  clear  that,  in  any  country,  the  greatest 
prosperity  and  happiness  will  result  from  a  definite  population, 
any  increase  or  decrease  of  which  would  be  injurious  to  happi- 
ness. For  instance  (with  a  fixed  maximum  possible  output  of 
Wealth  already  attained)  the  more  workers  the  less  for  each  to 
do;  hut  if  each  is  to  be  clothed,  fed,  housed,  etc.,  in  the  same 


200  Unproductive  Labor,  &€. 

But  now,  to  take  a  new  departure,  it  may  have  ap- 
peared strange  to  the  reader  that  in  summing  up  all 
the  wasted  labor  such  as  that  of  grooms,  flunkies,  soldiers, 
etc.,  we  omitted  to  add  in  the  lawyers  and  parsons.  This 
omission  was,  however,  quite  intentional,  since  we  assume 
that  these  men — or  rather  the  really  intellectual  members 
of  the  profession/  together  with  other  intellectual  men 
whom  it  is  convenient  to  represent,  as  to  numbers,  by 
the  remaining  lawyers  and  parsons, — will  ip  a  semi- 
Utopian  state  be  represented  by  an  army  of  headworkers. 
As  we  have  already  pointed  out,  the  abolition  of  such 
time-wasting,  Utopianly-useless,  labors,  as  those  of  the 
parson  and  lawyer,  will  enable  an  immense  accession  to 
be  made  to  the  ranks  of  the  plastic  artists,  actors,  and 
musicians — thus  securing  largely  increased  means  of  en- 
joyment for  the  community — and  also  to  the  number  of 
teachers  and  of  professional  scientific  researchers  and 
philosophers,  whose  work  will  not  only  enormously  in- 
crease the  happiness  of  a  cultured  and  intellectual  race, 
but  may  indirectly  react  vastly  on  their  material  gains. 

Now  by  way  of  a  concluding  concrete  instance  we  will 
consider  the  effect  on  teaching.  Tliere  are  at  present 
44,000  men  (beside  several  thousand  women)  wasting 
tlieir  time  and  keep  on  preaching  an  obsolete,  discredited, 
and  [)artly  immoral,  theology  ;  whilst  there  are  an  equal 

style,  the  more  workers,  the  more  woi-k  to  be  done.  Tlie  de- 
sideraudiim  is  to  tind  where  these  two  lines  intersect — and  then 
act  upon  MaUhusian  principles,  tvithoiU  ivhich  there  is  iio  possible 
social  salvation.     (See,  however,  pp.  52-54.) 

'  We  do  not  for  a  moment  mean  to  imply  anything  so  absurd 
as  that  the  parsons  as  a  class  are  a  gifted  or  intellectual  set  of 
men  ;  but  it  is  convenient  to  take  the  numbers  afforded  by  a  census 
of  the  "learned"  professions. 


Unproductive  Labor,  &c.  201 

nnmber  employed,  as  barristers,  solicitors,  and  lawyers' 
clerks,  in  the  work  of  making  the  worse  appear  the  better 
cause,  or  of  defending  us  against  our  neighbors'  aggres- 
sions :  clearly  both  these  occupations  are  incompatible 
with  Utopia.  Besides  lawyers  and  parsons,  however, 
we  have  over  26,000  doctors :  this  large  number  is  pro- 
bably a  good  deal  in  excess  of  the  real  demand,  whilst  in 
a  healthier  and  better  informed  social  state  one  may 
fairly  expect  illness  to  be  far  rarer,  and  therefor  doctors 
fewer.  If  we  grant  Utopian  England  15-16,000  doctors 
we  set  free  10-12,000  men  who  are,  most  of  all,  strikingly 
fitted  for  the  work  of  scientific  research.  If  we  further 
add  the  odd  18-19,000  lawyers  and  parsons  to  the  ranks 
of  the  artists — this  being  equivalent  to  increasing  them 
by  50  per  cent,  of  their  present  numbers — we  have  a 
residuum  of  70,000  men  left  to  increase  the  ranks  of  the 
teachers :  and,  seeing  that  the  male  teachers  in  England 
at  present  number  only  47,000,  some  idea  may  be  formed 
of  the  prodigious  impetus  that  would  thus  be  given  to 
intellectual  training. 

Since — within  certain  limits — the  fewer  boys  in  a  class 
the  more  does  each  one  learn  in  a  given  time — the  more 
chance  he  has,  that  is,  of  being  taught  and  not  scamped 
— it  is  clear  that  to  so  largely  increase  the  number  of 
(well-trained  and  capable)  teacliers  would  be  to  grandly 
invigorate  the  intellectual  life  of  the  nation.  ^ 

1  According  to  the  census  (1881)  there  are  about  12.000,000 
persons  under  twenty  years  of  age,  of  whom  we  may  reckon  per- 
haps 9,000,000  as  the  student  portion  in  an  Utopian  state  where 
all  learn.  Xow  we  have  already  explained  in  a  previous  work 
(Cry  of  the  Childi-en,  p.  98)  that  pi-obably  women  will  more  and 
more  encroach  upon  the  sphere  of  men  as  teachers  of  youngsters, 
and  that  probably,  up  to  about  fourteen,  boys  and  girls  will  be 
14 


202  Unproductive  Labor,  drc. 

And  here  we  must  close  this  discussion  that  has  already 
carried  the  chapter  far  beyoud  tlie  limits  tliat  we  had 
originally  anticipated  for  it,  noting  that  in  the  foregoing 
calculations  we  have  not  made  any  estimate  of  the  vast 
amount  of  wealth  annually  wasted  through  unthrift,  in- 
capacity, or  carelessness  with  regard  to  petty  trifles.^ 

taught  by  private  governesses  in  groups  of  six  or  eight.  Now  if 
we  reckon  4,500,000  of  our  students  to  be  of  tliis  class,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  University  and  High  School  class,  what  results 
do  we  get  ? 

The  census  returns  124,000  female  teachers — whereas  to  supply 
the  governesses  at  the  rate  of  one  to  eight  children  we  should 
require  about  four  and  a  half  times  as  many  ;  this,  however, 
need  not  disturb  us,  siuce  a  sphere  of  work  for  otlierwise  idle 
women  is  thus  opened  out.  We  then  find  the  total  force  of 
48,000male  teachers  left  for  distribution  among4,500,000students, 
boys  and  girls,  above  the  age  of  fourteen — a  ratio  of  1  to  93  or 
94  !  Adding  on,  however,  our  additional  force  of  70,000  derived 
from  the  abolition  of  lawyers  and  parsons,  we  get  the  classes 
reduced  within  something  like  reasonable  limits.  Of  course,  at 
the  present  time,  only  a  small  proportion  of  the  nation  is  really 
educated  :  this  calculation  shows  us  that  the  whole  nation  might 
be  thoroly  educated  up  to  the  age  of  twenty  at  no  more  cost  to 
the  nation  than  is  now  incurred  by  paying  and  keeping  parsons 
and  lawyers  and  the  existing  staff  of  teachers. 

1  We  had  hoped  to  supplement  our  I'ough  estimate  of  the  use- 
less workers  by  a  parallel  estimate  of  the  wasted  wealth  ;  but 
this  latter  design  is  impracticable.  We  know  for  instance  that 
£136,000,000  are  annually  spent  on  drink  by  the  United  Kingdom; 
over  six  and  a  quarter  millions  on  the  administration  of  Law  and 
Justice  plus  all  the  private  expenses  of  solicitors  and  advocates  ; 
something  between  perhaps  seven  and  ten  millions  on  tiie  main- 
tenance of  theological  performances  ;  £14,500,000  on  paupers  in 
England  and  Wales  ;  £200,000,000 on  the  armies  of  Europe;  and 
so  on  ;  but  we  do  not  know  how  much  of  this  is,  in  final  resort, 
absolutely  wasted,  and  how  much  goes  towards  sustaining,  cloth- 
ing, and  housing,  the  economically  useless  laborers,  their  wives 
and  children,  and  so  on  thro'out.  Therefor  to  estimate  the 
annual  literal  waste  of  wealth  is  impossible  without  other  data 
tlian  we  possess. 


CHAPTER  XT. 

THIS     PROBLEM     OP     UNPLEASANT     OCCUPATIONS  :     AND     TQE 
APOTHEOSIS    OF    MANUAL    WORK. 

"  Whilst  the  plowman,  near  at  hand, 
Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land  ; 
And  the  milkmaid  siiigeth  blithe  ; 
And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe  ; 
And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 
Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures, 
Whilst  the  landscape  roiiud  it  measures." 

"  But  as  for  hazarding  the  main  results 
By  striving  to  anticipate  one-half 
Of  th'  intermediate  process — no,  my  friends." 

We  will  now  turn  to  consider  some  other  trades  and 
from  a  somewhat  different  standpoint ;  from  that,  viz., 
indicated  at  the  commencement  of  Chapter  IV.,  when  we 
spoke  of  the  happiness  or  unhappiness  inherent  in  cer- 
tain occupations.  On  that  occasion  the  problem  was  thus 
stated:  "The  trouble  is  that,  while  such  occupations 
seem  necessary  to  the  comfort  of  the  public,  or  of  large 
classes  thereof,  they  are  undeniably  unpleasant  to  the 
workers ;  and  moreover,  with  the  growing  refinement 
of   evolving    society,    and    the    raising    of    the    general 

minimum  or  threshold  of  such  refinement,  these  occupa- 
203 


204  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

tions  may  be  expected  to  become  more  and  more  distaste- 
ful to  the  woikcrs.  How  tlicn  shall  we  reconcile  this 
opposition — since  evidently  there  should  be  no  actually 
unpleasant  occupations  in  even  an  approximate  Utopia  ? " 

It  is  now  proposed  to  rapidly  pass  in  review  some 
dozen  or  so  typical  trades,  in  order  to  note  how  many  of 
them  are  really  necessarily  distasteful  or  injurious  to 
health :  and,  of  these,  whether  any  may  be  dispensed 
with.  To  take  now  as  our  first  example  the  occupation 
of  the  scavenger,  to  which  we  have  already  alluded,  we 
will  first  of  all  observe,  by  way  of  a  practical  suggestion 
for  tho  present  day,  that  if  long-handled  brooms  were 
substituted  for  the  present  ridiculous  brushes,  the 
scavenger's  lot  would  be  ameliorated,  not  only  by  the  aboli- 
tion of  that  terribly  hack-aching  work,  but  also  by  the 
concomitant  diminution  of  personal  uncleanliness.  Since 
this,  however,  is  admittedly  only  a  slight  modification,  we 
will  go  a  good  deal  further :  and  if  the  need  should  arise — 
as,  e.g.,  owing  to  a  scavengers'  strike — we  will  undertake  by 
the  assistance  of  the  simplest  possible  (quasi-)  mechanica| 
device,  plus  a  little  deodoriser,  to  abolish  for  ever  the 
necessity  for  scavengers  and  their  accessories  and  allies  : 
nay  more,  to  keep  by  this  means  a  country  lane  as  well 
scavenged  as  Piccadilly. 

We  should  take  warning  from  this  unsavory  but 
necessary  example  how  we  conclude  that  any  occupation 
is  indispensable  to  a  complex  civilisation,  since  so  vei-y 
many  reforms  are  made  directly  we  are  compelled  to  dis- 
cover them.  It  is  superfluous  to  point  out  how,  once 
more,  we  achieve  an  hedonic  and  economic  gain  by 
abolishing  scavengers  :  a  quantity  of  labor  is  set  free  for 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  205 

more  productive  work,  the  rates  are  reduced;  and  the 
scavengers  find  a  less  unpleasant  occupation. 

All  work  at  present  carried  on  with  regard  to  the  dis- 
posal of  sewage — and  eqvially  the  agriculturists'  work  so 
far  as  concerns  carting  and  depositing  farmyard-manure 
— is  emphatically  beastly  work :  but  nobody  supposes 
that  a  future  race  of  comparatively  rational  men  will 
make  so  pitiable  an  exhibition  of  incapacity  as  we  of  this 
generation  have  as  regards  the  sewage  problem^:  as  to 
the  fcirmyard-manure,  it  is  probable  that  a  race,  with 
more  refined  noses  than  our  present  agriculturists  pos- 
sess, will  avail  themselves  of  certain  simple  expedients 
to  make  a  farmer's  work  as  unobjectionable  as  it  is 
glorious. 

Taking  another  miserable  occupation,  that  of  the 
sweeps,  we  may  safely  predict  here  that  semi-Utopia  will 
solve  the  problem  by  abolishing  the  need  for  these  men  : 
our  present  wasteful  and  clumsy  system  of  chimneys  can 
hardly  be  tolerated  much  longer  Aere — far  less  there. 

And  with  regard  to  such  dirty  occupations  in  general 
we  may  well  take  a  lesson  of  hope  and  trust  from  the 
result  of  the  great  gas-strike  of  1891.  The  life  of  the 
gas-stoker,  qua  stoker,  can  hardly  have  been — one  would 
think — other  than  a  lugubrious  one  :  bu-t  nobody  ever 
troubled  to  find  a  remedy — urged  by  mere  eudaemonistic 
motives  only.  One  first  result  of  the  strike,  however,  was 
the  invention  of  gas-stoking  machinery — a  true  labor- 
saving  appliance.  We  are  hopefully  inclined  to  think 
that  many  of  our  philanthropic  puzzles  and  perplexities 
will  be  solved  by  the  introduction  of  labor-saving 
^  We  iiave  already  referred  to  the  awful  luaste  entailed. 


2o6  U?ipleasant  Occupations. 

appliances  to  do  the  dirty  work  for  us — given  only  a 
su&cieut  motive  to  inventiveness.  Now  the  M'oric  in 
certain  chemical  factories,  e.g.,  white  lead  and  phosphor- 
xis  works,  and  in  arsenic-works,  is  in  the  long  run  fatal : 
is  this  terrible  fate  of  slow  poisoning  to  be  allotted  to  a 
proportion  of  semi-Utopia's  inhabitants  1  Here  we  may 
very  legitimately  anticipate  that  the  present  processes 
will  be  superseded  by  others  by  which  the  worker  is  not 
endangered,  or  else  that,  failing  this,  it  will  be  deemed  a 
lesser  evil  to  go  without  the  product  than  to  retain  it  at 
such  a  price  of  suffering.  For  instance  an  enormous 
quantity  of  the  arsenic  prepared  is  required  for  use  in 
paintmaking  :  surely  it  would  be  no  great  deprivation  to 
sacrifice  our  arsenical-green  paints,  if  thereby  we  rescued 
annually  so  many  young  girls  from  death.  ^  And,  in  like 
manner,  one  of  the  daily  papers,  commenting  recently 
upon  the  horrible  results  entailed  on  the  workers  by  the 
"enamel -plate "-working  process,  very  aptly  remarked 
that  surely  men  might  do  without  these  plates  if  they  be 
obtainable  only  at  the  cost  of  such  suffering. 

Take  again  as  an  example  of  another  class  of  occupa- 
tions that  of  the  butcher — horrible  calling  :  what  can 
we  say  of  this  1  Since  now  all  the  men  of  even  semi- 
Utopia  will  be  as  refined  and  sensitive  as  the  noblest 
ladies  of  to-day,  how  is  it  possible  to  imagine  them 
making  a  trade  of  killing  our  four-footed  brethren  ;  and 
then  furthermore  going  thro  the  horrible  business  of 
cutting  them  up  1  We  are  willing  to  confess  freely  that 
this  question  has  seemed  to  us  one  of  the  most  perplexing  : 

'  I.e.  assuming  that  life  were  pleasant  and  desirable  for  them ; 
as  it  would  be  in  semi-Utopia  ;  as  it  probably  would  not  be  here. 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  207 

for,  granting  our  premise  of  hyper-refinement  and  hyper- 
gentleness,  a  butcher's  occupation  would  seem  impossible 
for  semi-Utopians  Of  course  our  vegetarian  friends 
would  solve  the  difficulty  by  cutting  this  Gordian  knot : 
but  we  are  unwilling  to  posit  vegetarianism  as  a  neces- 
sity for  Utopians,  since  the  case  for  vegetable  diet  can 
not  be  considei'ed  to  be  made  out  yet  anyhow.  At  the 
same  time  we  are  not  blind  to  the  possibility  that  vege- 
tarianism may  be  the  practice  of  the  future  ;  and  it  is 
also  specially  incumbent  upon  us  to  remember  that, 
seeing  how  huge  strides  Chemistry  has  made  during  this 
last  half-century,  it  is  competent  to  no  one  to  deny  the 
possibility  that  the  artificial  synthesis  of  proteids  may 
one  day  revolutionise  all  of  our  present  notions  with 
regard  to  the  food  sujjply.^  But  even  were  we  to  grant 
the  contention  of  the  vegetarian,  we  should  not  have 
disposed  of  the  whole  difficulty  :  for,  unless  our  friend 
can  find  an  efficient  substitute  for  boots  and  all  other 
leathern  goods,  men  will  still  find  it  necessary  to  kill  and 
flay  animals  :  and  if  100— as  well  1,000  or  10,000— so 
far  as  concerns  the  shock  to  the  operator's  feelings.  Of 
course  we  may  fully  admit  that,  by  the  invention  of  far 
more  refined  and  humane  methods,  the  actual  killing 
of  the  animal  will  be  effected  without  much  chance  of 
sickening  the  bystander  :  but  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
how  such  operations  as  flaying  could  be  performed  merely 
by  machinery.  It  is  well  also  to  bear  in  mind  the  fact 
that,  since  doctors  will  remain  a  necessity  to  the  end  of 
time,  whilst  everyone  in  a  less  preposterous  age  will  go 
thro  a  course  of  instruction  in  zoology — in  practical 
^  See  Appendix  at  end  of  chapter. 


2o8  U npleasant  Occup.itions. 

zoology — it  is  evident  that  the  actual  handling  'and 
dissection  of  dead  bodies  will  remain  a  necessity  probably 
even  in  Utopia  itself.  And  with  regard  to  all  such 
dilemmas  we  must  repeat  that  the  Utopia  of  science  is 
not  the  most  perfect  imaginable  world,  but  the  most 
perfect  possible :  not  one  in  which  unhappiness  is  un- 
known, but  one  in  which  it  is  kept  at  a  minimum. 
Should  anyone  object  to  the  assignment  of  unhappiness 
to  Utopians  he  may  be  invited  to  repeat,  for  good  and 
all,  Hercules'  exploit,  and  to  vanquish  Death:  but,  while 
that  grim  fiend  is  able  to  strike  down  our  joy  even  in 
the  citadel  of  Utopia,  it  were  somewhat  futile  to  object 
to  any  speculation,  that  it  credited  a  trace  of  disconifui't 
to  Utopia. 

Another  trade  somewhat  similarly  intractable  is  that  of 
the  compositor :  this  is  notoriously  an  unhealthy  and 
trying  occupation  :  but  since  a  civilisation  without  books 
is  now  inconceivable  to  us,  and  since  we  can  see  no  present 
improvement  upon  printing,  we  can  only  surmise  that  with 
far  shorter  hours  of  labor,  abundant  ventilation^  and 
generally  brighter  surroundings,  the  lot  of  this  indispens- 
able mechanic  will  be  improved.  ^  "  With  brighter  sur- 
roundings:" yes;  why  not?  Why  is  it  that,  however 
fastidious  as  to  cheerful  and  artistic  adjuncts  in  our  home, 
we  all  think  it  "  unbusinesslike  "  to  have  any  thing  more 
than  gaunt  bare  walls  and  sombre  effects  in  our  offices 
and  workrooms  1  We  take  it  that  one  modification,  which 
will  render  the   occupations  of  compositors  and  of  all 

iTo  say  nothing  of  his  work  being  entirely  remodelled  by  de- 
vices of  which  the  Linotype  compo3ing-raacliiue  is  possibly  a 
sample. 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  209 

factory-hands  so  far  less  intolerable  than  now— apart  from 
the  benefit  derived  from  shorter  hours — will  be  the  in- 
troduction of  light  and  color,  pictures  and  flowers, 
wherever  possible,  into  the  workrooms.  We  do  not  mean 
to  assert  that  a  blacksmith's  shop  were  a  suitable  place 
for  such  additions  :  but  surely,  in  numberless  workrooms, 
where  the  work  is  cleanly  and  dust  not  superabundant, 
we  might  let  some  sunshine  into  the  workers'  daily  toil- 
life  by  introducing  pictures  and  flowers  that  would  carry 
their  thoughts  beyond  the  factory  far  away  to  breezy 
mountain,  shimmering  river,  and  heaving  sea. 

Admittedly  this  must  be  reckoned  a  very  small  mite 
to  the  discussion  of  how  far  one  can  reconcile  a  factory- 
worker's  life  with  any  approximately  Utopian  scheme. 
We  take  it  that  among  the  chief  hardships  of  a  factory- 
hand's  life  must  be  i-eckoned  (a)  the  commencement  of 
work  at  five  or  six  a.m.  at  the  summons  of  the  remorse- 
less factory -bell,  winter  or  summer — winter,  when  the 
day  has  not  yet  broken,  when  all  is  chill,  bleak,  forbidding, 
and  cold,  and  the  body  yearns  for  two  hours  more  of 
blissful  slumber;  summer,  when  the  sun  is  blazing  in  all 
his  glory,  the  air  is  fresl)  and  redolent  of  dawn,  und  all 
earth  seems  shouting  a  glad  view-hallo  !  of  field  and  wood 
and  sea  \  when  the  day's  work  should  be  pi-eceded  by  a 
long  ramble  thro  the  dewy  grass,  and  a  plunge  into  the 
sparkling  stream — did  not  the  factory-bell  forbid  :  (6)  the 
monotonous  work  in  close,  ill-ventilated,  cheerless,  work- 
rooms :  (c)  the  enforced  residence  in  crowded  streets 
of  a  closely  packed  city,  and  consequent  deprivation  of 
country  joys. 

These  seem  to  us  the  three  main  drawbacks,  putting 


210  Utipleasant  Occupations. 

aside  entirely  the  overworking  of  children  and  bad  wages, 
both  of  which,  ex  hypothesi,  are  non-existent  in  semi- 
Utopia.  Now,  with  regard  to  the  first — that  is  already 
by  implication  disposed  of;  for  the  hours  of  work  in  the 
time-to-come  will  be  probably  4  or  5  and  not  10 — and 
with  abundant  holidays. ^  The  second  trouble  we  have 
just  referred  to  ;  while  as  to  the  third — that  is  of  course 
the  problem  of  great  cities,  and  is  no  peculiar  grievance 
of  factory-workers.  We  can  hardly  doubt  that  a  more 
rational  and  happier  age  will  not  only  find  some  adequate 
remedy  for  our  present  terrible  centralisation,  and  some 
contrivance  for  drawing  off  inhabitants  from  town  to 
country  and  distributing  population  somewhat  less  un- 
equally,  but  furthermore   that,  as  opportunity  offers,  a 

'  The  wretched  superstition  so  long  prpvalent,  and  responsible 
for  so  much  misery  and  degradation,  that  the  longer  a  work- 
man's day  the  more  work  he  necessarily  performed — as  if  the 
human  body  were  a  nerveless  macliine  incapable  of  fatigue — has 
happily  of  late  received  many  hard  knocks  ;  and  at  last  even 
Philistines  are  beginning  to  realise  that  as  nnich  work  is  done  in 
8  hours  as  in  10.  Mr.  Jolm  Rae  remarks  (Contemporary  Reeieiv, 
June,  1893): — "The  surprising  thing  about  these  experiments 
— and  indeed  about  a  large  proportion  of  otiier  8-hour  experi- 
ments also^is  that  the  same  staff"  of  men  have  done  more  work 
in  the  48  hours  a  week  than  tiiey  did  before  in  the  54  hours 

together  ivith  the  overtime  then  hahitval In  Mr.  Beaufoy's 

vinegar-works  the  same  staff"  do  in  8  hours  a  day  more  work  than 
they  did  before  in  9f  hours  with  two  months'  overtime  into  the 
bargain Tlie  hours  in  the  S.  Yorks  coalmines  were  re- 
duced from  12  to  8  in  1858,  and  tlie  miners  sent  out  more  coals  in 
the  day  after  the  reduction  than  they  did  before  it."  AH  this  is 
very  encouraging  but  not  remarkably  "surprising"  to  a  physi- 
ologist :  it  indicates,  however,  that  if  the  hours  were  reduced 
from  10  to  7  the  wealth-production  would  probably  be  unaffected. 
At  this  rate,  uiith  the  economien  advocated  in  the  text,  a  4  or  5 
hours'  day  ceases  to  be  a  wild  dream. 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  21 1 

slightly  less  idiotic  scheme  of  building  will  be  introduced, 
and  every  town  be  surrounded  by  concentric  belts  of 
country.^  An  additional  factor  in  the  problem  must 
not,  however,  be  forgotten  :  Mr.  Ruskin,  and  those  of  his 
way  of  thinking,  would  probably  urge,  as  the  ready 
solution  of  the  difficulty,  that  these  abominated  factories 
will  disappear  altogether.  Tliat  the  present  staring, 
brick-built,  long-chiranied,  depressingly  ugly,  factory  will 
in  course  of  time  disappear  and  be  replaced  by  artistic 
buildings,  we  have  no  doubt  at  all — in  time  :  but  that  in 
any  other  than  this  literal  sense  the  factory  will  dis- 
appear seems  to  us  an  excedingly  rash  and  unwarranted 
assumption.  No  doubt  some,  possibly  many,  of  the 
industries  at  present  carried  on  in  large  factory-work- 
rooms, might  be  sent  out  for  execution  in  cottage-homes; 
some  few  experiments  ^  have  already  been  made  in  this 
direction,  and  we  may  fairly  anticipate  that  the  feasibility 
of  the  scheme  will  increase  with  the  intelligence  and  trust- 
worthiness of  the  workers  ;  and^so  far  as  such  decentralisa- 

'  This  rational  scheme,  which  was  propounded  in  a  pamphlet 
by  the  late  Edward  Ellis,  Esq.,  has  really — we  understand — 
been  adopted  to  some  extent  in  Australia. 

^  We  would  refer  our  readers  to  the  Echo  for  Dec.  7,  1885,  for 
a  long  account  of  the  noble  efforts  made  by  Mrs.  Ernest  Hart  to 
revive  the  cottage  industries  in  Donegal.  These  efforts  were 
crowned  with  such  success  that  "  the  peasant  women  produced 
hosiery  that  could  compete  with  that  made  by  machinery  in 
price,  and  was  much  superior  to  it  in  quality  and  durability,  and 
tweeds,  serges,  and  friezes,  that  were  not  to  be  surpassed  in  any 
market." 

Want  of  space  alone  prevents  us  from  quoting  almost  the 
entire  article — to  which  once  more  we  heartily  refer  any  readers 
interested  in  the  true  philanthropy  of  helping  the  poor  to  do 
without  help. 


212  Unpleasajit  Occupations. 

tion  is  possible,  no  doubt  it  would  be  a  gain  in  every 
way,  affording,  as  it  does,  a  solution  to  so  many  troublous 
problems.  But  it  would  seem  that  the  extensibility  of 
such  a  scheme  must  always  be  limited  :  wherever  the 
work  involves  machinery  of  any  but  the  simplest  form, 
there  must  be  centralisation  in  factories  ;  and,  tho  it  is 
possible  that  machinery  of  a  not  very  complicated  order 
might  be  distributed  over  country-side  sttb-factories,  there 
would  seem  always  to  be  requix'ed  larger  factories  for  the 
expensive  machinery.  We  would,  howevex',  point  out 
that,  so  far  as  the  nature  of  the  business  and  the  means 
of  transport  will  admit  of  sucli  country-side  small  factory- 
settlements,  we  should  have  here  an  admirable  solutioa 
of  the  multitudinous  difficulties  connected  with  over- 
crowding and  city  populations.  It  is  also,  of  course,  a 
very  legitimate  speculation  that  greatly  improved  means 
of  transport  may  render  possible  a  considerable  drafting- 
off  of  factories  from  town  to  country. 

With  regard  to  the  wider  question,  raised  by  certain 
writers,  of  the  existence  of  factories  and  machinery  in 
any  form,  we  certainly  cannot  subscribe  to  the  doctrine 
that  machine-labor  is,  ipso  facto,  accursed,  and  that  in  a 
better  future  we  shall  revert  to  the  hand-labor  of  the 
"  good  old  days."  One  must  of  course  admit  that,  owing 
both  to  the  consequent  extreme  specialisation,  and  to 
the  mere  fuct  that  machine-labor  is  machine-labor,  a 
woi'kei"'s  task  is  far  more  monotonous,  and,  if  you  like, 
calls  for  less  skill  and  intelligence,  and  excites  but  a 
languid  interest.  But  have  we  not  here  a  lesser  evil 
again  1  For  if  such  machine-labor  be  far  more  econom- 
ical— as  who  will   doubt — this  means  that,   in  the  long 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  213 

run,  the  nation  generally  will  have  to  work  fewer  hours 
daily  for  the  same  result  :  that  is  to  say,  that,  by  re- 
taining this  uninteresting  machine-labor  instead  of  the 
more  interesting  but  less  efficient  hand-labor^  we  shall 
have  a  good  many  more  hours  daily  to  indulge  in  the 
pre-eminently  most  interesting  occupation  of  art,  science, 
and  recreation.  It  were  surely  better  to  work  four  to 
five  hours  daily  at  a  very  monotonous  and  uninteresting 
task,  and  to  have  long  leisure  for  true  living,  than  to 
work  eight  to  ten  hours  at  a  more  interesting  task — but 
still  a  task  and  a  hard  one — and  then  to  have  very  little 
leisure  afterwards  for  true  living.  What  we  have  to 
devise  for  Utopia  is  such  organisation  that  there  may  be 
executed  with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of  time  all 
such  work  ^  as  may  suffice  to  afford  us  the  wealth  neces- 

'  It  will  be  observed  that,  thro'out,  we  are  looking  upon  this 
daily  loork  as  so  much  work  that  must  be  done — in  order  to  pro- 
vide mankind  with  food,  clothing,  shelter,  and  all  the  essential 
requisites  of  a  refined  and  cultured  life — independently  of  any 
hedonic  value  that  it  may  intrinsically  possess  ;  but  which  should 
be  done  at  the  least  possible  expense  of  time  and  energy  in  order 
to  leave  free  so  much  of  our  life  as  possible  for  real  living — for 
the  Greek  life  of  refined  and  cultured  leiszire.  If  however  our 
daily  work  possess  in  any  degree  an  hedonic  value  of  its  own,  if 
it  be  so  agreeable  that  even  were  no  luork  at  all  necessary  we 
should  yet  devote  a  part  of  our  day  to  this  occupation,  then 
clearly  there  is  a  very  great  hedonic  gain  :  a  man  who  works  six 
hours  daily  at  an  employment  to  which,  for  the  love  of  such 
einployment,  he,  would  be  willing  to  devote,  say,  two  hours 
daily,  may  then  be  considered  to  work  only  about  four  hours  per 
day.  Now,  as  everybody  knows,  Herbert  Spencer  has  argued 
(Data  of  Ethics)  that  in  a  perfect  social  state  everyone  will  ex- 
perience a  real  love  for  his  ivork,  and  will  thoroly  enjoy  the  toil 
)Dy  which  he  gains  a  living.  That  inuch  can  be  said  for  this 
contention  is  of  course,  even  superficially,  apparent ;  and  the 
artist,  the  musician,  the  author,  and  we  may  add — as  a  repre 


214  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

sary  to  an  Utopian  existence ;  and  then  wc  can  truly 
live  and  taste  the  zest  of  life  in  our  long  leisure  and  long 
holidays. 

Factories  suggest  mines — and  here  we  must  confess 
to  a  difficulty  that  is  almost  too  strong  for  us  at  present. 
We  may  without  much  trouble  see  our  way — even  now — 

sentative  of  a  class  at  present  small  but  destined  to  presently 
attain  far  greater  numerical  proportions — the  scientific  "  re- 
searcher," may  appear  striking  examples  of  a  consummation 
already  attained.  Whether,  however,  all  workers,  including 
miners,  bakers,  grooms,  factory-hands,  and  id  omne  genus,  will 
one  day  come  to  I'cgard  their  daily  toil  witii  enthusiasm  and  love, 
as  a  source  of  lively  pleasure  in  itself,  and  as  a  pursuit  to  be 
desired  even  as  artistic  creation, — is  quite  anotlier  thing.  That 
use  reconciles  men — or  at  least  the  j^resent-day  lethargic  half- 
living  meji — to  many  things,  so  that  finally  a  certain  affection  is 
developed  for  most-prosaic  occupations ;  tliat  in  a  brighter 
social  state,  with  far  shorter  hours  of  labor,  with  happy  homes 
and  genial  surroundings,  with  high  health  and  exuberant  spirits, 
the  daily  toil,  even  tho  laborious  and  uninteresting,  may  be 
\indertaken  without  much  repugnance,  and  got  thro  without  dis- 
tress, or  even  with  a  certain  amount  of  pleasurable  feeling  ;  all 
this  we  can  quite  understand  :  but  that  any  race,  especially  a 
race  generally  endowed  with  deep  scientific  and  artistic  culture, 
and  far  more  sensitive  in  every  respect  tlian  is  the  present 
average  man,  should  find  in  the  ordinary  avocations  any  plea- 
sure comparable  with  that  of  the  artist,  author,  or  scientist ;  or 
should  regard  with  anything  but,  at  the  best,  toleration,  as 
necessary  evils,  many  indispensable  departments  of  labor  ;  ia 
quite  another  thing.  It  is  one  thing  to  anticipate  that  in  Utopia, 
with  short  hours  of  labor  and  frequent  holidays,  tlie  necessary  work 
will  be  cheerfully  and  willingly  performed ;  but  quite  another  to  as- 
sume tliat  all  such  work  will  afford  a  distinct  and  permanent  glow 
of  pleasure  to  the  workers  in  the  same  sense  as  does  art- work  or  re- 
Beardh.  The  peculiar  ditlerentiffi  of  esthetic  and  scientific  employ- 
ments must  not  be  forgotten:  and,  merely  because  it  so  happens  that 
these  may  afford  the  secondary  advantages  of  a  marketable  com- 
modity, it  seems  doubtful  how  far  they  should  be  classified,  for 
purposes  of  argument,  with  the  ordinary  breadw inning  pursuits 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  215 

to  reconcile  a  factory-hand's  employment  with  Utopia ; 
but  what  of  the  miner  %  Can  we  possibly  imagine  such 
quahfications  as  would  render  a  miner's  occupation  not 
unpleasant  to  a  refined  Utopian — to  work  in  the  dark, 
deprived  of  the  blessed  light,  in  cramped  and  suffocating 
attitudes,   in  constant  danger  of  a  horrible  death,   and 

— most  of  which  would  never  have  been  undertaken  at  all  by  any- 
one except  loith  a  view  to  sujyplying  material  wants.  Were  we 
supplied  by  Nature  gratuitously  with  all  our  material  wants, 
there  would  yet  be  artists  and  scientists,  but  scarcely  miners  or 
jjlowmen  or  factory-liands.  Moreover,  with  regard  to  Spencer's 
remark,  apropos  of  this  question,  that,  intrinsically,  rowing  a  boat 
is  no  more  pleasurable  than  reaping ;  and  while  acknowledging 
the  support  he  derives  from  such  phenomena  as  those  afforded  by 
the  enthusiasm  of  amateur  gardeners,  amateur  carpenters,  ama- 
teur blacksmiths,  e<  id  omne  genus  ;  we  may  point  out  two  quali- 
fications :  (1)  that  the  special  example  adduced  by  Spencer  is  not 
a  particularly  happy  one  ;  because,  by  rowing,  one  obtains  the 
pleasure  of  motion,  of  gliding  over  the  water,  of  passing  in  review 
a  long  stretch  of  scenery,  of  enjoying  cool  airs,  and  so  forth, 
whilst  avoiding  the  back-aching  and  monotony  of  reaping : 
whilst,  that  there  is  an  intrinsic  difference  of  a  very  marked 
degree  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  thousands  turn  keenly  to  boating 
as  a  recreation,  whilst  no  one  is  found  to  amuse  himself  by  reap- 
ing, altho  the  opportunities  for  reaping  are  far  and  away  more 
numerous  than  for  boating  :  (2)  tliat  even  boating,  were  one 
compelled  to  engage  in  it  several  hours  a  day,  for  most  days  in 
the  year,  would  quickly  lose  much  of  its  hedonic  value  and  pall 
upon  one  ;  the  comparative  infrequency  thereof,  and  the  fact 
that  it  is  sought  as  a  recreation  from  the  work  of  breadvvinning, 
and  that  it  is  usually  enjoyed  in  the  company  of  a  bevy  of  friends, 
combine  to  give  to  amateur  boating  a  zest  which  would  necessarily 
be  wanting  in  the  daily  routine.  Without,  however,  further  dis- 
cussing Spencer's  canon — for  wliich  we  admit,  of  course,  that  a 
pretty  strong  case  can  be  made  out — we  may  suggest  (1)  that  the 
higher  becomes  our  race,  esthetically  and  intellectually,  and  the 
more  that  it  learns  to  value  irredeemable  time,  the  more  im- 
patient and  intolerant  will  it  become  of  time-consuming  labors 
which,  however  unobjectionable  hedonically,  are  yet  performed 


2i6  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

al)ove  all  perennially  soiled,  befouled,  begrimed,  with 
black  coal  dust !  Yes,  this  is  one  of  the  worst  of  our 
problems,  and  we  will  frankly  confess  to  our  inability  to 
see  a  solution;  unless — and  it  is  no  such  very  wild  con- 
jecture— unless  coal  as  a  source  of  energy  be  characteris- 
tic only  of  our  vexed  and  troublous  transition-state, 
while  the  electric  machine  of  the  future  will  be  driven 

simply  hecmise  they  are  necessary  to  material  comfort :  and  (2) 
that,  if  v\  eismann's  doctrines  shouhl  finally  carry  the  day,  thenthe 
education  of  the  race  into  enjoyment  of  necessary  toils  must  be 
— as  of  course  Spencer  recognises — far  far  slower  than  he  antici 
pated  when  writing  the  Data  of  Ethics  ;  for  in  that  case  all  must 
be  done  by  a  slow  selection  and  nothing  by  inherited  habits. 
Under  such  conditions,  indeed,  one  may  well  doubt  whether  the 
Spencerian  consummation  would  ever  be  attained.  Now,  it  is 
certainly  singular  and  striking  that,  turning  from  the  ideal  of  a 
scientist  and  Individualist  to  that  of  an  artist  and  Socialist,  we 
find  the  same  thing  aimed  at ;  William  Morris,  no  less  than  Her- 
bert Spencer,  insisting  that  our  daily  work  shall  become  to  us  a 
soxirce  (if  not  indeed  the  chief  source)  of  happiness.  Since  then 
Morris'  declarations  regarding  %vorh  seem  to  clash  strongly  with 
our  own  as  expressed  in  the  text,  it  is  desirable  to  say  a  few 
words  on  the  subject ;  and  the  more  so  since  otherwise  we  have 
found  Mr.  Morris'  views  and  our  own  coincide  in  so  many  respects. 
On  page  201-202  of  his  Hopes  and  Fears  for  Art,  he  criticises  the 
dictum,  "No  man  would  work  if  it  were  not  that  by  working  he 
hoped  to  earn  leisure,"  and  his  remarks  thereupon  run  very  coun- 
ter to  our  own  advice  to  reduce  work  to  a  minimum,  and  tlien  live. 
A  very  little  examination  and  reflection,  however,  will  show  that 
the  opposition  is  far  less  than  it  superficially  appears,  and  is 
greatly  owing  to  an  unfortunate  ambiguity  in  Mr.  Morris'  use  of 
the  word  ivor/c:  this  is  clear  when  he  procedes  to  translate  the 
dictum  into  "what  a  man  does  in  his  leisure  is  not  work,"  and 
then  to  traverse  this  statement.  If,  however,  one  defines  work 
— which  we  do — as  tvage-earning,  then  the  contradiction  in  large 
measure  disappears :  but  Mr.  Morris'  remarks  on  page  203  are 
worth  reading,  since  their  confession  as  to  the  "  weariness  "  of  life 
without  some  daily  work  curiously  suggests  that  he  has  overlooked 
the  lifelong  (employment  that  study  alone  may  give. 


V npleasant  Occupations.  217 

by  the  power  of  the  ocean — now  wasted  utterly  !  Any 
such  solution  as  this  would  indeed  be  magnificent,  and 
would  effectually  dispose  of  one  perplexity :  but  we 
should  still  have  to  reckon  with  the  iron  mines,  and 
the — certainly  far  less  troublesome — copper  and  tin 
mines,  etc. 

Then  we  come  to  a  varied  category  of  trades,  which  it 
is  necessary  to  but  very  briefly  glance  at  :  there  are  the 
bootmaker  and  tailor,  the  blacksmith,  the  brickmaker,  the 
navvy,  the  shepherd,  the  farm-labourer,  the  builder,  the 
carpenter,  the  engine-driver,  and  so  on.  Now  our  object  in 
quoting  these  occupations  is  to  point  out  that — putting  a- 
side  the  trouble  of  roughening  and  staining  the  hands, 
which,  we  admit,  is  a  bona  fide  sore  trouble  to  us — putting 
aside  this,  however,  there  is  really  nothing  in  any  of  these 
trades  that  any  one  of  ms  ought  to  be  horrified  at  for 
ourselves — once  we  get  over  the  ridiculous  and  inmioral 
prejudice  that  there  is  something  menial,  servile,  or  dis- 
honourable, in  manual  work.  Any  such  occupation  as 
we  have  mentioned  might  have  to  be  plied  by  any  one 
of  us  or  of  our  sons  if  living  in  a  new  colony  ;  and  would 
be  performed  without  any  the  least  feeling  of  false 
shame  there,  and  with  the  most  beneficial  results  to 
health.  Then  why  not  likewise  here  %  Any  one  of  us 
will  do — and  enjoy  it — a  hard  spell  of  very  manual  work 
in  our  own  houses  and  gardens^ — yet  we  should  deem 
professional  manual  work  dishonorable.       We   have  yet 

1  During  the  dockers'  strike  of  1890  we  heard  a  good  deal  of 
"gentlemen  black  legs:"  and  during  the  Irish    railway  strike 
a  small  number  of  young  gentlemen  volunteered  to  do  porter's  <jr 
shunter's  work  for  the  pure  fun  of  the  thiiifj. 
15 


2i8  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

to  learn  that  wieldiuf^  a  spade  is  as  honorable  as  driving 
a  pen — and  fur  more  healthy. 

"But," — comes  the  impatient  retort — "all  this,  how- 
ever true,  is  absurd  and  inconsequential :  for  whatever 
we  may  think,  rightly  or  wrongly,  of  manual  work,  our 
reasons  for  not  adopting  it  are  not  that  we  despise  it, 
but  that  we  can  get  better  paid  for  head-labor  —  and 
prefer  this.  Of  what  use  then  is  it  to  lecture  us  on  the 
necessity  of  reconciling  ourselves  to  manual  work  ]" 

Now  to  this  retort  we  have  very  little  to  object,  in  so 
far  as  it  looks  to  the  present  day  only  :  but  we  are  look- 
ing forward.  As  will  have  been  already  gathered,  we 
anticipate  a  time  when  various  social  developments  will 
nave  concurred  to  largely  augment  the  ranks  of  manual 
workers  at  the  expense  of  the  non-productive  classes  on 
the  one  hand,  and  to  notably  elevate  the  culture  and 
social  standing  of  the  workers  on  the  other.  Now  our 
socialist  friends,  who  are  nothing  if  not  hasty  and  en- 
thusiastic, are  very  fond  of  denouncing  without  dis- 
crimination the  whole  category  of  middlemen  and  of 
other  wealth-distributers,  and  of  insisting  that  the  future 
is  for  the  manual  worker  only  :  ni  all  of  which  indis- 
crimination perhaps  they  will  pardon  us  for  thinking 
them  very  foolish  :  but  there  is  abundant  kernel  of  truth 
in  their  declamations  nevertheless. 

Now  wiien  the  fully  middle-aged,  aldermanic,  and 
rather  apoplectic,  city-gentleman — gifted  with  no  very 
violent  zeal  for  humanity,  and  witii  even  less  capacity 
for  sociological  study,  or  even  for  any  other  form  of 
intellectual  exercitation — when  this  worthy  hears  our 
socialist  friends   so   declaiming,    he    generally   mops    hi.s 


Uu pic  as  ant  Occupations.  210 

forehead,  gasps  like  a  dying  fish,  and  breaking  out  into 
a  cold  perspiration,  cries,  "  Good  God!  do  you  mean  to 
say  that  /  am  to  be  set  to  work  building  a  wall  or 
stoking  a  furnace  :  oh,  what  rascals,  what  idiots,  these 
socialists  are : "  aud  away  he  trots,  as  fast  as  may  be,  to 
vote  Tory  ! 

Now  all  this  is  very  absurd  :  nobody,  except  some 
very  violent  enthusiast  of  the  latter-day -saint  type  of 
character,  anticipates  any  such  sudden  change — a  change 
impossible  unless  brought  about  by  very  artificial 
methods,  and  then  disastrous :  we  have  to  do  with  the 
evolution  of  society  and  of  social  machinery,  and  with 
the  progressive  modifications  so  entailed.  It  is  only 
in  the  vision  of  some  wild  dreamer  that  our  respectable 
city  friend — whose  consternation  we  can  hardly  avoid 
somewhat  pitying  in  spite  of  his  ai'rant  selfishness — 
would  be  suddenly  transplanted  from  an  occnpation  in 
which  he  is  of  some  use  to  another  in  which  he  would  be 
utterly  useless,  besides  being  physically  unfit  for  it. 
To  contemplate  the  possibility  of  such  rapid  changes 
is  to  cherish  most  wasteful  and  uneconomical  desires. 
There  is  no  question  of  the  old  gentleman  being  turned 
into  a  manual  labourer  ;  and,  so  far  therefor,  it  may  be 
said  that  liis  consternation  or  his  assent  •A'ere  equally 
valueless  :  hut  there  is  some  possibility  of  its  being  very 
advisable  that  his  grandson  or  great-grandson  should 
devote  himself  to  some  species  of  "mechanic"  work  — 
especially  if  he  be  no  more  liberally  gifted  in  the  way 
of  grey  brain-matter  than  is  his  elderly  and  respectable 
progenitor.  Now,  this  being  so,  we  would  ask  our 
(socialist   friends — Is    it  necpssirv,    is    it   not  ratlier    ex- 


220  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

tremely  unwise,  thus  to  consternate  and  agitate  elderly 
citizens  of  the  non-featherweight  build  ;  would  it  not 
be  wiser  to  conciliate  their  votes  and  interest  by  showing 
them  that  in  the  first  place  this  dreaded  reform  cannot 
possibly  occur  in  their  time  (a  sop  for  the  Cerberus 
of  self),  and  that,  in  the  second  place,  it  is  not  after  all 
so  dreadful  when  it  does  come — nay,  rather  pleasant 
than  otherwise  for  those  who  have  been  suitably  trained  ? 
For  even  our  elderly  citizen  will  tell  you  that  city-life 
is  vile,  and  that  his  dream  is  to  retire  into  the  country, 

when !   so  that  after  all  he   may  be  got  to  admit 

that,  if  his  grandson  or  great-grandson,  instead  of  being 
sent  into  the  smoky  city  at  15,  to  arrive,  only  after  long 
years  of  drudgery  at  a  desk,  at  a  moderate  income,  were, 
instead  of  this,  kept  at  school  and  university  until  20  or 
21,  and  then  taught  carpentering,  e.g.,  and  made  as 
good  an  annual  income  by  that  in  a  few  years  as  our 
friend  after  20  years'  drudgery,  and  with  shorter  hours 
and  a  far  healthier  life  to  boot^why  then  this  so 
dreaded  millennium  might  be  tolerable  after  all  ! 

Nor  is  this  all:  the  Socialists,  like  other  enthusiasts, 
are  too  apt  to  forget  that  the  new  regime  ca/j- succede  and 
flourish  healthily  and  prosperously  only  ?/ it  be  a  natural 
growth  indigenous  to  the  people  :  conceivably  it  might 
be  imposed  by  foreign  conquerors  or  by  mob  law — but 
then  alas,  vae  victis !  vae  civitati  victae  /  No :  may 
England's  fate  forbid  any  so  terrible  calamity :  the  new 
regime  (whether  the  Socialists  be  right  in  their  painting 
of  it  or  the  Individualists  in  theirs)  can  only  be  prosper- 
ous and  lasting  if  it  be  a  natural  growth.  But  how  do 
any  changes  come  to  naturally  occur ;  what  is  the  fore- 


Unpleasant  Occupatiotis.  221 

runner  and  cause  of  every  social  or  constitutional  reform: 
what  else  but  a  previous  movement  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing? The  reform  was  made  a  certainty  at  that  moment 
when,  in  the  majority  of  the  people,  there  was  implanted 
a  perception  of  its  necessity,  or  a  strong  impulse  towards 
the  change^:  always  and  everywhere  the  ^rs^  necessity 
then  is  to  revolutionise  the  thoughts  and  to  render  a  given 
idea  familiar  and  agreeable.  Now  up  come  the 
Socialists ;  and,  by  way  of  reconciling  the  British 
Philistine  to  a  radical  social  change  which  is  timed  to 
arrive  perhaps  several  or  many  generations  hence,  they 
fire  off  at  the  astonished  and  scandalised  old  gentleman  a 
shower  of  red-hot  new  doctrines,  none  of  which  he  under- 
stands, and  for  none  of  which  he  is  prepared.  Now  we  con- 
tend that  the  proper  thing  is  to  take  this  somewhat  dense 
old  citizen  into  our  confidence,  and  after  having  convinced 
him  that  we  have  no  explosives  about  us,  and  that 
nothing  is  likely  to  "go  off"  in  his  neighboi'hood  any- 
how, we  should  bring  him  to  see  how  very  pleasant  such 
developments  are  to  contemplate,  and  in  fact  we  should 
"warm  up  "the  doctrines  gradually  before  him:  then 
perhaps  we  may  make  some  headway.  ^  And  this  is  pre- 
cisely what  we  have  been  aiming  at  thro'out  this  essay. 

I  "  Every  institution  as  it  actually  exists,  no  matter  what  its 
name  or  pretences  may  be,  is  the  effect  of  public  opinion  far  more 
than  its  cause ;  and  it  will  avail  uotliing  to  attack  the  institu- 
tion unless  you  first  change  the  opinion  "  (Buckle  :  History  of 
Civilisation,  III.,  p.  83). 

-  We  hope  that  all  this  will  not  be  misunderstood  as  an  advo- 
cacy of  socialistic  doctrines  :  for,  altho  it  appears  to  us  that  the 
Ji7ial  social  state  contemplated  by  ourself  is  not  very  vitally 
different  from  that  which  the  Socialists  aim  at,  yet  our  respective 
prescriptions  for  arriving  at  such  state,  and  tor  maintaining  it 


2  22  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

Now — applying  the  moral  of  this  Ions:  digrcssinn — wo 
hope  that  our  purpose  in  emphasising  the  comparatively 
pleasurable  character  of  much  manual  work  (at  least 
wlicn  subject  to  certain  very  feasible  reforms)  will  be 
perceived. 

It  is — we  think — highly  desirable  that  we  should, 
beforehand,  reconcile  ourselves  to  the  idea  of  manual 
labor  supplanting — in  great  measure — "  office  work," 
"  shop  work,"  and  "  professional  work."  Once  get  rid  of 
that  prei)osterous  notion  that  manual  work  is  degrading  ; 
and  then — given  equivalent  wages — surely  we  must 
admit  that  brickmaking  or  building,  altho  not  an  intel- 
lectual or  intrinsically  interesting  pursuit  perhaps,  is  at 
least  no  worse  in  this  respect  than  book-keeping  or  col- 
lecting insurance-fees  ;  and  that  carpentering,  with  all  its 
beautiful  precision,  is  intellectually  somewhat  above 
bank-clerking.  An  engine-driver  may  be  thought  to 
have  a  hard  life,  but — putting  aside  those  engaged  in  the 
underground-railway,  whose  lot  in  its  terrible  monotony  is 
too  hurrible  to  contemplate,  and  putting  aside  also 
certain  suburban-drivers — we  would  even  to-day  vastly 
prefer  the  engine-driver's  life,  hour  for  hour,  to  the 
lawyer's-clerk's  or  the  shop  assistant's  —  tho  the  one 
wear  a  white  jacket  and  be  a  "  mechanic,"  while  the 
other  wear  a  black  coat  (odious  appanage)  and  be  a 
"  gentleman  "  (save  the  mark).     Oh  !  is  there  not  some- 

whcn  arrived  at,  are  fundamentally  different.  Of  course  the 
Socialists  may  be  quite  right,  and  we  may  be  quite  wrong  :  we 
are  fully  open  to  conviction  ;  but  meanwhile  we  decidedly  object 
to  being  misunderstood  as  an  exponent  of  regimental  Socialism  — 
whereas  our  present  convictions  are  dead  against  it. 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  223 

thing  grandly  romantic  in  an  engine-driver's  life  :  in  the 
summer,  for  instance,  steaming  out  of  London  in  the 
earlj  morn  while  the  air  is  fresh  and  keen,  quickly  leav- 
ing the  throbbing  metropolis  behind,  bursting  rapidly  in 
upon — -say— the  Surrey  heaths,  dashing  thro  all  the  f;dr 
summer-wealth  of  heather  and  bracken,  whirling  across 
the  Hampshire  and  Wiltshire  downs  with  tiieir  chalk 
escarpments,  and  at  last  breaking  in  upon  the  glories  of 
Devon ;  and  so,  after  winding  round  hill  and  combe, 
ending  by  the  side  of  the  surging  ocean  !  Or  perhaps  a 
night  journey — a  fiery,  gleaming,  swishing,  rush  thro  the 
darkness — oh  a  romantic  life  and  a  fine  life  truly  :  what 
can  the  pallid,  smoke-ridden,  black-coated.  City-clerk  set 
off  against  this  !  Again,  people — to-day — stupidly  scoff 
at  shoemakers  and  tailors:  but  an  hour's  sojourn  in  an 
Italian  cobbler's  shop — necessitated  by  the  effect  of  a 
pedestrian  tour  upon  a  solely-available  pair  of  boots — 
taught  us  how  much  of  interest  and  skill  the  art  of 
cobbling  enshrined  :  whilst  anyone  not  blinded  by  stupid 
caste-born  prejudice  would  readily  perceive  that  in  its 
beautiful  neatness,  symmetry,  and  skill,  tailoring  is  far 
superior  (in  intellectual  interest)  to  writing  invoices  or 
attending  "  change,"  and  far  more  honorable  than 
gambling  in  stocks  or  concocting  lies  for  newspapers. 
Shepherds  and  farmers  and  fishermen  have  all  the  year 
round  that  healthy  open-air-life  which  Londoners  look  to 
as  making  their  brief  fortnight  the  chief  happiness  of  the 
year :  and  even  the  sailor's  life,  tho  it  be  hard  and 
dangerous,  is  so  much  the  ideal  of,  at  least,  us  sea-girt 
Englishmen,  that  it  were  almost  superfluous  to  adduce 
any  arguments    to    reconcile    us   to  that  :  we   may  well 


224  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

anticipate  that,  when  wages  have  sufficiently  gone  up, 
and  the  workmen's  pay  be  more  nearly  equal  in  all  trades, 
then  the  sailor's  life  will  exercise  an  irresistible  fascina- 
tion upon  our  British  youth,  and  the  difficulty  will  be, 
not  to  man  our  marine  but,  to  ship  our  mariners.^  It 
thus  appears  to  us  that — so  far  as  concerns  social 
developments — our  future  is  full  of  hopefulness ;  and 
the  outlook,  as  compared  with  our  present  surrounding 
social  wilderness,  is  fair  indeed ;  and  surely  the  efforts  of 
all  of  us  should  be  especially  centred  upon  so  educating 
public  feeling  and  inducing  so  healthy  and  truly  demo- 
cratic a  frame  of  mind — to  the  eternal  annihilation  of 
caste — as  to  render  it  possible,  socially  possible  we  mean, 
for  our  sons,  or  at  least  for  our  grandsons — unless  their 
abilities  clearly  designate  them  as  fitted  for  a  truly 
learned  profession — to  earn  their  livelihood  by  some 
species  of  mechanical  worli  rather  than  by  desk-drudgery 
or  supererogatory  "middlemanning."  At  the  same  time 
such  reflections  as  the  foregoing  immensely  help  us  to 
reconcile  semi-Utopian  happiness  with  the  existence  of 
numberless  mechanics  sucii  as  are  clearly  necessary  to 
any  society. 

'  We  fear  that  the  suggestion  will  be  drowned  by  peals  of 
Homeric  laughter,  yet  we  have  small  doubt  that,  in  a  more  re- 
fined society,  sailors,  like  many  other  craftsmen,  will  wear  gloves 
whilst  engaged  in  dirty  working  ;  and  will  not  consider  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  have  tarry  hands.  White  hands  are  dear  to  us  ;  and 
we  cannot  easily  reconcile  ourself  to  the  notion  of  SO  per  cent, 
being  spoiled  in  Utopia. 


Unpleasant  Occupations.  225 


APPENDIX. 

Singularly  enough,  about  an  hour  after  writing  the  foregoing 
discussion  on  vegetarianism,  we  found  in  the  current  number  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century  (April,  1892)  a  vegetarian  pronunciamento  by 
La^ly  Paget.  We  read  tlie  article  with,  naturally,  much  interest : 
and,  altho  the  authoress  had  permitted  herself  to  indite — as  we 
were  sorry  to  observe — several  glaring  absurdities,  and  once  or 
twice  betrayed  a  comical  nescience  of  physiology  ;  still,  after 
reading  and  reflecting  on  the  article,  we  began  to  see  our  way 
thro  this  difficulty  a  little  more  clearly,  and  to  think  that  per- 
haps we  had,  in  our  remarks  above,  somewhat  exaggerated  the 
difficulties  of  Utopia's  diet. 

Lady  Paget,  in  stating  her  case  for  vegetarianism,  laid  great 
stress  on  the  esthetic  side  of  the  question,  referring  for  instance 
to  the  loathsome  spectacle  afforded  by  a  butcher's  shop,  and 
especially  to  the  reflex  effect  on  the  butcher.  All  this  is,  of 
course,  thoroly  consonant  with  the  views  that  we  have  already 
expressed  ;  and,  when  Lady  Paget  precedes  to  refer  to  her  indi 
vidual  constitutional  repugnance  to  meat-eating,  we  can  farther 
assure  her  that  our  own  experience  has  been  very  congruous  to 
hers.  With  all  that  Lady  Paget  writes  regarding  the  far  more 
esthetic  character  of  a  vegetable  diet  we  are  thoroly  in  accord, 
andemphatically  with  her  objection  to  condemning  so  many  fellow- 
men  to  the  degrading  trade  of  butchery  ;  and  of  course  with  her 
womanly  plea  for  the  dumb  animals  that  suffer  such  hideous 
cruelties  on  the  route  to  the  slaughterer's  ;  indeed  we  can  hardly 
trust  ourself  to  think  upon  this  part  of  the  subject.  But  now, 
admitting  all  these  arguments  to  the  full,  the  old  question  remains, 
tvill  vegetarianism  loor-k  ?  Well,  Lady  Paget's  article  naturally 
did  not  convince  us  of  what  lias  been  a  moot  point — if  even  a 
moot  point — for  many  years,  and  seems  moreover  very  clearly 
repugnant  to  man's  normal  alimentary  instincts, — which  are  by 
no  means  to  be  ignored  as  guides  ;  l  but,  thinking  over  the  subject, 

iWe  must  remark,  however,  that  the  majority  of  the  monkeys  are  normally 
vegetarian  ;  but,  presumably  in  correlation  with  this  diet,  they  have  frequently 
hideously  prominent  abdomens  ;  the  potato-eating  Irish  are  well-known  to 
be  similarly  affected.  Mr  Long— to  whose  article,  in  tlie  Fortniijhtly  for 
August,  1S93,  wemayrefer  our  readers  for  various  data  as  to  food-consumption, 
etc.— remarks  that  2  lbs.  of  flour  and  4  oz.  of  pulse  per  day  constitute  the  total 
food  of  a  Hindoo.  Obviously  it  were  absurd  to  argue  without  reserve  from 
the  easy  conditions  of  a  tropical  climate  to  the  far  severer  conditions  of 
Northern    Europe,  to   say  nolhiug  of   the  asserted  corporal   weakn^ts  and 


226  Unpleasant  Occupations. 

and  espenially  regarding  it  from  the  esthetic  and  humanitarinn 
standpoint,  we  came  to  tlie  conclusion  that,  if  it  should  1)«  luiind 
feasible  to  maintain  a  thoroly  satisfactory  bodily  condition  on 
— not  a  vegetarian  but— a  "  pythagorean  "  diet  o^jiah  and  "  vege- 
tables," the  problem  would  be  practically  solved. 

Tlie  esthetic  and  humanitarian  advantages  of  fish  over  butcher's 
meat  are  so  obvious  as  to  need  no  pointing  ;  the  killing  of  the 
fish  is  accompanied  by  nothing  comparable  to  the  horrors  of  the 
shambles,  tlie  stage  of  previous  suffering  is  wanting,  any  kind  of 
prescience  or  nervous  apprehension  is  absolutely  absent,  the 
moral  deadening  of  the  fisherman's  sentiments  is  in  no  way  com- 
parable with  that  of  the  butcher's — both  because  there  is  no 
bloodshed,  and  no  actual  killinri,  and  because,  the  farther  removed 
from  humanity  is  any  animal,  the  less  repulsive,  both  naturally 
and  logicallj','  is  its  killing — and  finally  a  fish-shop  — altlio  Lady 
Paget  expressly  disagrees  with  us  here — is  not  esthetically  ob- 
jectionable, or  at  least,  comparably  with  a  butcher's. "^ 

feebleness  of  the  Hindoos,  which  will  not  unnaturally  he  ascribed  to  their  bad 
food,  the  he  adds  that  their  mes-engers  will  go  fifty  uiiies  a  day  for  twenty  and 
thirty  days  without  intermission  (!J  ;  but  we  would  ask  our  readers'  attention 
to  a  passage  \r\  ForsUr's  Travels  (\\.  142)  as  quoted  by  Mill  (Historn  of  India, 
i.,  p.  412.)  "  Having  witnessed  the  robust  activity  of  the  people  of  Northern 
Persia  and  Afghanistan,  I  am  induced  to  think  that  the  Imnian  body  may 
sustain  the  most  laborious  services  without  the  aia  of  animal  food.  The 
Afghan,  whose  ^ole  aliment  is  bread,  curdled  milk,  and  water,  inhabiting  a 
climate  which  often  produces  in  one  day  e.xtreme  heat  and  cold,  shall  undergo 
as  much  fatigue,  and  exert  as  much  strength,  as  the  porter  of  London  who 
copiously  feeds  on  flesh-meat  and  ale  ;  nor  is  he  subject  to  the  like  acute  and 
obstinate  disorders.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  Arabs  of  the  shore  of 
the  lied  Sea,  wlio  live,  witli  littlt^exte!)tion,  on  dates  and  lemons,  carry  burdens 
of  such  an  extraordinary  weight,  that  its  specific  mention  to  an  European  ear 
would  seem  romance." 

1  Naturalli/,  because  the  death  of  any  animal  that  can  reciprocate  our  human 
feelings  and  intelligence — e.g.,  a  dog,  horse,  or  monkey — possesses  a  peculiar 
pathos  for  us  ;  it  is  analogous  to  the  death  of  a  man:  and  loijically  because 
the  further  removed  from  us  is  an  animal,  the  cruder  is  its  nervous  system 
and  the  less  capable  of  suffering  pain  is  it. 

2  "  I  do  not  think  that  anyone  has  a  riglit  to  indulge  in  tastes  which  oblige 
others  to  follow  a  brutalisin^'  occupation  which  morally  degrades  the  man  who 
earns  his  bread  by  it.  To  call  a  man  a  biitiiier  means  that  he  is  fond  of  blood- 
shed "  (p.  f)S2,  April,  1892).  In  this  connection  we  may  call  our  readers' 
attention  to  a  significant  statement  that  appeared  in  the  Star  (August,  IS  '3), 
to  the  effect  that  a  police  constable  was  converted  tout-d-coup  to  vegetarian- 
ism by  a  duty-visit  that  he  paid  to  a  slaughter-house.  His  account  of  hia 
experience  is  worth  reading.  Mr.=.  Edmonds  in  her  Fiir  Athens  (p.  14S-9)  has 
some  plaintive  reflections  on  the  fait^  of  thousands  of  lambs  at  Easter,  .-lud 
seems  to  have  had  her  happiness  cousiderably  marred  thereby.  Mrs.  Eduiouds, 
apparently,  is  no  vegetarian. 


Unpleasant  Occupatiotis.  227 

Well  the  upshot  of  our  reflections  was  a  determination  to  make 
a  loyal  experiment  upon  this  "  p3-thagoreau  "  diet,  of  tish,  egys, 
and  vegetable  food,  only — excluding  poultry  and  game  as  much 
as  butcher's  meat.  An  opportunity  soon  otferod  itself  for  com- 
mencing the  experiment,  and  we  can  now  report  (February, 
1894)  that  after  eigliteen  montiis'  abstention  from  meat  we  feel 
none  the  worse  for  it :  almost  tlie  only  differences  that  we  have 
observed  are  (1)  that  apparently  at  first  we  suffered  less  from 
indigestion  after  dinner,  and  (2)  that  the  mouth  and  teeth  are  in 
a  decidedly  more  agieeable  condition  tiian  tiiey  were  wont  to  be 
in  the  days  of  the  normal  diet ;  this  latter  change  was  very 
marked  at  once.  We  may  furthermore  add  that  after  three  weeks 
in  Scotland,  spent  partly  on  board  ship  and  partly  on  pedestrian 
tours — during  which  time  we  lived  almost  entirely  on  this  diet 
— we  returned  several  pounds  heavier  than  we  had  ever  known 
ourself  before.  At  the  same  time  we  are  fully  open  to  the  re- 
marks ( 1 )  that  some  years'  trial  may  be  by  no  means  so  satisfactory 
as  eighteen  months' — time  alone  can  decide  that ;  and  (2)  that  it 
is  considerably  more  difiicult  to  obtain  a  palatable  variety  of 
food  under  this  than  under  the  normal  regime.  However  that 
may  be,  the  general  effect  upon  our  speculations  has  been  to  bias 
us  strongly  to  the  conclusion  that  butchers'  shops  will  disappear 
from  the  semi-Utopia  of  this  latitude  anyhow  :  whether  the 
poulterer's  will  remain  is  anotlier  question.  It  has,  however, 
been  objected  by  a  sceptical  friend,  against  eitiier  pure  vegetarian- 
ism or  our  own  "  Pythagoreanism,"  that  to  abolish  "  butchery  " 
would  entail  the  loss  of  wool  and  milk  also,  since  these  could 
profitably  be  grown  only  as  bye-products,  not  as  the  main  or 
sole  products.  To  tliis,  however,  we  retort  (1)  that  wool  is  so 
groion  in  Australia,  and  apparently  also  by  the  breeders  of  tiie 
merino  sheep — whose  bodies  are  dwarfed  and  the  wool  luxuriant ; 
(2)  that  even  in  England  sheep  can  get  niore  or  less  of  a  livino 
on  bare  hillsides  where  the  land  is  unfit  for  cultivation,  and 
pasturage  costs  nothing  ;  (3) — and  this  is  very  important  —that 
all  the  great  expenses  of  fattening  would  obviously  be  saved,  so 
that  the  expenses  of  sheep-owners  and  cattle-owners  would  be 
far  less  than  now  ;  (4)  that  even  if  the  prices  of  wool  and  milk 
be  raised  (which  we  doubt),  yet  since  a  fish  diet — when  the  culti- 
vation of  fish  shall  have  been  systematically  and  scientifically 
undertaken  —will  be  far  less  expensive  than  a  meat-diet,  it  is 
clear  that  higher  prices  could  be  afforded  for  wool  and  milk  ; 
besides  which,  it  seems  clear  that  if  we  keep  our  sheep  alive  for 


228  Unpleasatit  Occupations. 

their  natural  term,  instead  of  slaughtering  thousands  monthly, 
our  national  supply  of  wool  will  be  enormously  increased.  Witli 
regard  to  other  and  favourite  objections  of  our  friend's,  we  may 
also  at  least  .sugyest  possible  solutions  :  we  are  asked,  What  can 
be  done  with  the  oxen  if  they  be  no  longer  eaten  ;  and  how  are 
the  dead  sheep  and  oxen  to  be  disposed  of?  To  these  questions 
we  submit  (1)  that  the  oxen  may  well  be  used  for  draft-purposes 
as  they  are  on  the  Continent — a  procedure  wliich  would  greatly 
economise  our  horse-power,  and  practically  therefor  increase 
our  supply  of  horses  ;  besides  which,  moreover,  it  is  highly  pro- 
bable that  the  advance  of  biological  science  will  enable  us  to 
practically  determine  the  ratio  of  buUcalves  to  cowcalves  in 
accordance  with  our  requirements  ;  and  (2)  as  to  the  disposal  of 
dead  cattle  and  sheep,  the  same  objection  viight  he  made  in  regard 
to  our  horsen  :  whether  the  dead  animals  be  returned  to  mother 
earth,  or  utilised  in  fish-culture,  the  esthetic  trouble  is  far  less 
than  that  involved  in  butchery.  Finally,  as  regards  the  pigs, 
we  must  confess  that,  ptrsonally,  whether  we  remain  "  Pytiia- 
gorean  "  or  not,  we  would  gladly  see  tlie  Gadarene  process  applied 
to  every  pig  in  Britain  to-morrow.  These  few  suggestions  as  to 
the  economics  of  live-stock  we  commend  to  our  X'egetarian  friends, 
whose  business  it  really  is,  rather  than  ours,  to  solve  such  pro- 
blems. We  hope  that  they  will  be  duly  grateful  to  us  for  fighting 
their  battles,  altlio  not  acknowledging  their  suzerainty  and  only 
doubtfully  their  alliance  even  !  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  really 
their  business  to  arrange  all  these  things  ;  and  we  may  point  out 
to  them  that  until  they  can  find  a  complete  substitute  for  leather, 
or  otherwise  solve  that  leather  problem,  there  i7iusc  necessarily 
leniuiu  au  unmanageable  lion  in  their  own  and  our  esthetic  patlis  ■ 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ON    CO-OPERATION. 

"  Le  sense  commun  est  le  genie  de  riinmanit^." 

"  A  threefold  cord  is  not  quickly  broken." 

There  are  a  number  of  detached  observations  with  re- 
gard to  social  evolution,  and  bearing  especially  (in  all 
probability)  upon  the  not  ver}^  remote  future,  that  we 
may  here  record  before  closing  the  present  discussion. 

Among  the  many  forms  of  social  activity,  for  which  one 
may  anticipate  far  greater  developn^ent  in  the  future,  is 
that  of  co-operation.  It  has  often  seemed  to  us,  when 
reflecting  on  social  development,  that  men  in  the  future 
will  live  far  less  than  at  present  by  making  profits,  and 
far  more  by  diminishing  expenses — which  diminution 
can  only  be  brought  about  by  co-operation.  Of  course 
this  statement  can  very  easily  be  caricatured  into  mere 
nonsense ;  but  we  think  that  there  is  a-  very  solid  core 
of  truth  in  it  :  one  or  two  examples  from  familiar  thmgs 
will  render  the  matter  jDlain. 

Take  tii-st  our  daily  expenditure  on  the  necessities  of 

life — coals — food — clothes — tools — and  so    on.     Now  in 

buying  all  of  these  things  we  are   paying,  not  only  the 

labourei''s  wages  and   the  manufacturer's  profit,  but  also 

the  profits  of  probably  two  (at  least)  intermediary  dealers 
229 


230  Oh  Co-operation. 

— the  wholesale  dealer  and  the  shopkeeper  Now  if  we 
could  buy  direct  from  the  manufacturer  at  the  wholesale 
prices  we  should  save  largely  :  but  it  were  clearly  absurd 
to  suppose  that  we  could  do  tliis  without  buying  a  large 
quantity  at  a  time — for  which  large  quantity  we  have  no 
use.  The  least  reflection  will  suffice  to  show  that  in 
nineteen  cases  out  of  twenty  some  kind  of  middlemau- 
distributing-agency  is  absolutely  essential  :  and  if  so, 
clearly  such  middlemen  nmst  be  paid — must  make  their 
profits.  Now  in  this  dilemma,  many  years  ago,  some 
few  people,  unusually  endowed  with  "  common  "  sense, 
perceived  that  they  might  attain  the  desired  end  by 
banding  themselves  together,  buying  the  goods  whole- 
sale, and  then  retailing  them  among  themselves.  In 
fact  Co-operative  Stores  were  invented.  Now  it  is  clear 
that,  when  rationally  carried  out,  this  system  of  Co-oper- 
ative Stores  is  emphatically  the  most  economical  way  of 
diminishing  household  expenses,  and  of  reducing  to  the 
lowest  possible  minimum  the  number  of  middlemen  and 
the  consequent  costs  of  distribution.  The  whole  assem- 
blage of  shops  in  any  one  village  might  be  superseded  by 
one  large  co-operative  store — employing  the  minimum 
possible stati'of distributers — and  to  the  general  advantage. 
But  the  systmi  of  Co-operative  Stores — so  called — as 
we  know  them  at  the  present  day,  is  the  most  insane  and 
ghastly  parody  of  Co-operation  conceivable — having  as  , 
much  real  co-operation  in  it  as  there  is  moss  on  a  rolling 
stone.  By  what  mysterious  process  of  brain-bewilder- 
ment anybody  can  have  persuaded  himself  tliat  "  co- 
operation" of  distribution  consisted  in  X  people  forming  a 
limited  liability  company  for  the  sale  of  miscellanies  at 


On  Co-operation.  231 

subnormal  rates,  both  to  themselves  and  to  anybody  who 
liked  to  sabscfibe  2s.  6d.  or  5s.  annually  for  the  privdege, 
and  in  then  dividuig  the  enormous^  profit  to  the  share- 
holders in  proportion  to  their  shares  and  not  to  their  pur- 
chases, this  the  Demons  of  confusion  alone  know.  Yet 
this  caricature  passes  for  *'  Co-operation  !  "  The  absur- 
dity is  really  so  glaring,  the  fallacy  so  palpable,  that  it 
almost  seems  superfluous  to  explain  that  there  can  be  no 
Co-operation  of  distribution  in  its  true  sense  unless  (1) 
the  ability  to  purchase  is  confined  exclusively  to  the 
shareholders,  and  (2)  the  profits  are  annually  distributed 
among  the  members  in  the  precise  ratio  of  their p)urchases, 
hut  not  to  them  as  shareholder's.  Or  in  other  words,  the 
aim  should  be  to  sell  at  cost-price  plus  management- 
price  ;  and  the  profits,  as  such,  should  be  zero.  The 
only  question  is,  whether  it  be  better  to  sell  the  goods  at 
a  zero  profit  in  each  case  ;  or  to  sell  them  at  normal  or 
subnormal  prices,  and  then  annually  divide  the  profits  to 
each  member  in  the  ratio  of  his  purchases.  The  former 
plan  is  of  course  the  simpler  j/;ri;/ia/acie  ;  but  the  latter 
is  preferred  by  most  economists  ;  not  only  because  it  is 
dirticult  to  calculate  the  managerial  and  other  expenses 
so  exactly  as  to  be  able  to  sell,  e.g.,  a  pound  of  soap  at 
zero-pi'ofit-price,  but  also  because  it  is  usu;xlly  considered 
tiiat  thrift  is  far   more  promoted,  and  extravagance  and 


1  An  original  £1  share  in  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores  is  now 
worth  fl5.  How  heavy  a  loss  is  entailed  upon  the  consumer  by 
our  present  machinery  of  distribution  is  evidenced  by  this  fact  no 
less  than  by  the  huge  proportion  to  which  the  trade  disrount 
sometimes  attains  :  we  understand  that  in  certain  trades  it  may 
be  as  high  as  75  per  cent. — or  even  higher. 


232  On  Co-operation. 

frivolous  expenditure  less  induced,  if  a  tangible  lump 
return  be  made  annually.  ^ 

Another  development  of  co-operation,  which  we  may 
expect  to  find  in  the  very  near  future,  is  in  its  applica- 
tion to  hotels  and  similar  establishments  :  and  one 
knows  not  whether  to  attribute  it  to  national  brainless- 
ness,  or  to  national  apathy,  that  this  reform  has  not  been 
introduced  years  ago.  At  present,  any  one  visiting  a 
fairly  good  hotel  in  anything  like  a  favourite  watering- 
place  is  charged  at — often — the  most  extortionate  rates  : 
so  far  as  it  is  possible  to  anyhow  check  the  charges,  the 
landlord  seems  to  make  several  hundred  per  cent,  profit. 
But  tho  this  has  been  a  standing  grievance  for  many 
years,  and  tho  everybody,  inore  patriae,  grumbles  and 
growls,  and  declares  such  charges  to  be  scandalous,  and 
perhaps  shortens  a  holiday,  or  denies  himself  the  pleasure 
of  visiting  a  favourite  watering-place  in  consequence,  yet 
the  thing  ends  liere  :  and  hotel  charges  continue  to  rise, 
to  the  general  annoyance,  and  the  profit  of  no  one — 
except  the  unconscionable  landlord.  And  yet  the 
remedy  is  so  very  simple :  there  requires  only  some 
public-spirited  man  with  some  influence  to  set  the 
movement  on  foot,  and  then  the  diflficulty  were  solved.^ 

There  must  be  at  least  some  tens  of  thousands  of 
Londoners  alone  who  annually  visit  one  or  anotlier  of  say 

'  The  qualification  usually  made  that  the  co-operation  is  not 
exteniled  to  the  shopmen,  etc.,  employed  seems  to  us  no  more 
valid  than  an  objection  to  a  bird  that  it  can't  swim.  In  the  very 
nature  of  things  the  co-operation  in  distribution  can  only  benefit 
the  distributers,  and  qua  distributers. 

=  Note  also,  however,  the  suggestions  supra  p.  55  on  joint 
households,  and  temporary  exchanges. 


On  Co-i'peration.  233 

a  score  favourite  seaside  resorts  :  now  all  that  is  necessai'y 
is  to  induce — well  perhaps  a  thousand  would  be  sufficient 
to  start  with — to  form  a  limited  co-operation  company, 
with  say  £5  shares,  in  order  to  buy  up  an  hotel  in  some 
town  to  be  fixed  by  the  majority-vote.  This  hotel  then 
would  be  worked  on  co-operative  principles  exactly  like 
a  true  co-operative  store  ;  it  would  be  kept  exclusively  for 
the  use  of  members,  who  would  be  charged  the  minimum 
possible  tariff,  and  any  profits  made  would  annually  be 
distributed  pro  rata,  not  according  to  shares  hut  to  hotel 
hills.  But,  it  will  be  exclaimed,  this  is  only  one  town  : 
people  do  not  want  to  visit  the  same  town  every  year. 
True  :  but,  once  the  experiment  were  successfully  started, 
there  would  be  a  rush  for  membei-ship.  The  original 
company  (of  1000)  should  be  so  constituted  as  to  permit 
of  unlimited  addition  to  their  numbers  :  and  for  every 
fresh  1000  shareholders,  a  fresh  hotel  should  be  taken 
on.  Thus,  in  probably  one  or  two  seasons,  hotels  would 
be  acquired  in  every  fair-sized  watering-place.  The 
economy  would  obviously  be  immense ;  whilst  the  gain 
in  comfort  would  be  very  great  indeed,  since  hotels,  be- 
longing in  this  way  to  a  company  of  hotel- visitors,  would 
be  quickly  made  far  more  home-like  and  generally  snug 
than  they  at  present  are.  That  the  general  public,  even 
without  co-operating,  would  benefit  by  this  reform  is 
obvious  :  since  the  co-operation  would  so  thoroly  scare 
the  hotel-keeping  fraternity  as  to  bring  down  their  prices 
with  a  rush.^     It  is  clear  too  that  this  scheme  need  not 

'  We  look  upon  this  as  a  most  practicable  reform  which  might 
well   be    introduced    at  once :    and   there    is    no    reason    why  a 
company  so  formed  should  not  procede  to  buy  up,   e.g.,  Swisa 
hotels  also  where  the  prices  are  steadily  rising. 
16 


234  On  Co-opi.ration. 

be  confined  to  hotel-visitors  alone,  but  that  it  miglit  most 
beneficially  include  provision  for  buying  up  blocks  of 
houses  for  the  benefit  of  those  whom  it  better  suits  to 
take  apartments.  1  In  fact  all  of  this  is  nothing  else  but 
the  application  of  Club-principles  on  a  larger  scale.  Just 
siuiilarly — to  descend  to  a  still  more  prosaic  subject — 
may  we  look  to  such  a  scheme  for  buying  up  City- 
restaurants  and  dining-rooms.  It  has  long  been  a  s  lurce 
of  grumbling  and  complaint  that  City-clerks — on  whom 
more  especially  the  hardship  falls — cannot  get  a  dinner 
for  a  reasonable  sum.  The  remedy  is  very  simple — viz.^ 
for  some  hundreds  of  them  to  combine,  buy  tip  a 
re&taurant,  put  a  manager  in  it,  and  then  dine  cheaply 

'  It  is  strange  that  on  a  small  scale  this  has  not  long  ago  been 
.ap])lie(l  by  a  group  of  families  buying  up  a  cottage  l)y  the  sea 
and  using  it  in  turn.  So  too  if  our  counirymen  had  the  merest 
soupcou  of  eneriry  and  "  common"  sense,  or  the  slightest  notion  of 
helping  themselves,  instead  of  paj'ing  the  exorbitant  sums  de- 
manded for  berths  in  the  various  yachting  steamers,  a  hundred  of 
them  would  club  together,  charter  a  steamer  on  their  own  account, 
appoint  a  catering  committee  and  stewards,  and  in  tine  have  all 
the  real  enjoyment  of  the  cruise  for  about  a  third  or  half  of  the 
sum  usually  demanded.  It  is  true  that  a  "club"  thus  catering 
fur  themselves  would  probably  not  charter  a  steamer  whereof 
the  woodwork  was  entirely  hidden  by  velvet  and  gilt  mirrors, 
nor  would  they  spend  as  much  on  the  wasteful  extravagances  of 
a  single  dinner  as  would  pay  for  four  reasonable  dinners  ;  but  we 
venture  to  say  that  they  woxild  be  none  the  worse  for  tliese 
limitations — but  rather  the  better.  The  modern  curse  of  object- 
less luxury  has  invaded  and  already  half-ruined  our  ships  now, 
and  threatens — at  the  present  rate  of  increase — soon  to  render  it 
impossible  for  any  men  with  "  moderate"  incouies  to  afl'ord  the 
expense  of  the  "  cheapest  form  of  carriage." 

It  seems  to  he,  nowadays,  considered  essential  to  render  a 
steamship  a  floating  mcu^on  doree — which  preceding  we  beg  leave 
U>  characterise  as  a  lubberly  mistake  singularly  ilisgracciu!  to  an 
island-nation. 


On  Co-operation.  235 

at  co-operative  rates.  Here  again  everyone  will  profit, 
for  the  frigiiteued  restaurateurs  will  bring  down  their 
prices.  ^ 

We  are  by  no  means  sure  either  that  similar  associa- 
tions will  not  be  formed  to  buy  up  theatres  and  concert- 
halls  ;  so  that  we  may  get  our  recreations  also  at  co- 
operative rates.  Compulsory  co-operation  is  already 
applied — rightly  or  wrongly — in  many  towns,  in  the 
furm  of  municipal  gasworks,  etc.  ;  and  a  consideration  of 
the  very  wide  range  that  co-operation  may  be  made  to 
cover  will  satisfy  us  that  we  have  here  another  of  those 
natural  processes — the  tendency  of  which  is  concomitantly 
to  increase  the  average  citizen's  wealth,  and  to  render  the 
accumulation  of  large  furtunes  rarer  and  more  difficult, 

1  A  highly  desirable— and  yearly  more  necessary— social  de- 
velopment is  the  formation  of  an  Anti-Blackmail-learfue ;  the 
object  of  which  shall  be  to  compel  certain  classes,  hotel-keepers 
anil  restaurateurs  pre-eminently,  to  pay  their  own  servants  and 
waiters  themselves,  instead  of  dishonestly  leaving  them  to  live 
by  blackmailing  their  customers  for  tips.  Such  reform  can  only 
be  etfected  by  an  organisation  so  powerful  as  to  embrace  the 
majority  of  their  customers.  This  evil  system  is  becoming  simply 
intolerable  now,  and  is  poisoning  trade  after  trade.  It  is  well 
known  that,  in  many  City-restaurants,  the  waiters  are  paid 
nothincj,  but,  on  the  coutrai-y,  pay  the  proprietor  several  pounds 
weekly  for  their  berths,  recouping  themselves  by  tips  !  The  utter 
absurdity  of  the  system  is  evidenced  not  alone  by  this,  but  also 
by  the  fact  that,  in  many  City-grillrooms,  a  man  lunching  on  a 
steak  and  bread — price  1/1 — is  expected  to  tip  Id.  each  to  waiter, 
griller,  and  money -taktr  1 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

GOD  THE  ALMIGHTY  DOLLAR. 

"  The  World  is  too  much  with  U3  :  late  and  soon 
Getting  and  spending  we  laj'  waste  our  powers: 
Little  we  see  in  Nature  that  is  ours ; 
We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon." 

"  Oppressed 
To  think  that  now  our  life  is  only  dressed 
For  show  :  mean  handywork  of  craftsman,  cook, 
Or  groom !     We  must  run  glittering  like  a  brook 
In  th'  open  sunshine,  or  we  are  unblcst. 
The  wealthiest  man  among  us  is  the  best. 
No  grandeur  now  in  nature  or  in  book 
Delights  us.     Rapine,  avarice,  expense, 
This  is  idolatry  ;  and  these  we  adore: 
Plain  living  and  high  thinking  are  no  more." 

And  now,  in  conclusion,  let  us  repeat  once  more,  that  in 
depicting  Utopia  it  is  the  general  good,  the  general  happi- 
ness, that  we  are  regarding,  and  not  the  selfish  affluence 
of  a  few.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  the 
Avhole  drift  of  this  essay  implies  as  much — that  again 
and  again  the  sundry  reforms  denoted  really  connote — 
more  or  less  immediately — a  progressive  levelling  of  in- 
come, status,  and  culture.  For  instance,  early  in  this 
essay  we  pointed  out  that  the  comparative  extinction  of 
lawyers  would  inevitably  accompany  the  introduction  of 

a  high  standard  of  general  honesty ;  and,  no  doubt,  many 
236 


God  the  Almighty  Dollar.  237 

readers  will  have  been  horrified  at  such  a  suggestion — 
exclaiming  against  a  reform,  however  generally  beneficial, 
that  should  deprive  a  Russell  or  a  Lockwood  of  the 
opportunity  of  aoiassing  a  fortune  by  his  eloquence  and 
address.^  But — putting  aside  the  fact  that  all  these 
men  (however  indispensable  at  present)  are  simply  a 
measure  of  our  imperfect  civilisation  and  our  uncertain 
honesty — we  contend  that  the  very  fact  of  so  many 
fortunes  the  less  being  made  were  in  itself  a  source  of 
great  gratulation.  Since  the  national  wealth  is  a  limited 
amount,  every  fortune  amassed  hy  a  non-producer  entails 
the  inevitable  correlative  that  so  many  of  his  fellows  are 
the  poorer  :  that  a  lawyer  has  an  annual  income  of  £5000 
implies  that,  for  instance,  fifty  of  his  fellows  are  losing 
£100  a  year;  and,  whereas  to  increase  a  rich  man's  in- 
come by  £1000  is  to  give  him  comparatively  very  little 
increase  of  happiness,  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  to  diminish 
a  poor  man's  income  by  £100  is  to  injure  him  cruelly. 
In  every  case — it  is  a  simplest  deduction  of  economics — 
a  large  fortune  for  a  non-producer  mu&t  mean  poverty  for 
a  number  of  others  :  but,  in  this  case,  that  the  rich  man's 
gain  is  the  average  man's  loss  is  peculiarly  palpable ;  for 
the  exchange  is  brought  about,  not  by  any  indirect  and 
occult  social  processes,  but  by  a  very  direct  payment : 
the  lawyer's  fortune  is  made  out  of  his  clients'  fees ;  and 
so  much  wealth  for  him  means  so  much  loss  for  them. 

We  repeat,  then,  that  large  fortunes  are  not  -  a  source 
of  national  gratulation — that,  on  the  contrary,  they  are 

'  Cf.  too,  note  to  pp.  95-96. 

-  The  obvious  retort  to  this  is  that  without  abundance  of  great 
capitalists,  what  is  to  become  of  the  Wages  Fund — how  is  Ju- 


238  God  the  Almighty  Dcllar. 

a  cause  for  f^reat  anxiety  and  regret.  That  the  unpro- 
ductive rich  become  continually  richer  must  generally 
imply  that  the  poor  become  poorer ;  whilst  the  more 
uncommon  become  large  fortunes,  the  more  reason  have 
we  to  rejoice — taking  this  as  an  indication  that  levelling 
is  going  on.  So  much  has  been  incidentally  said — or 
implied — already  in  deprecation  of  any  eagerness  for 
amassing  large  fortunes — the  main  object  of  which  is  to 
enable  the  "successful"  man  to  squander  his  wealth  in 
every  kind  of  wasteful  luxury  and  useless  extravagance, 
against  the  practice  of  which  this  work,  from  beginning 
to  end,  is  principally  levelled — that  it  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  enter  into  any  formal  discussion  of  plutotheism 
here  :  but,  nevertheless,  we  must  once  more  express  our 
most  earnest  and  emphatic  opposition  to  this  univei*sul 
dollar-worship.  We  know  of  no  more  unhealthy  and 
dangerous  social  symptom  of  the  present  day  than  this 
gravelling  adoration  of  the  dollar;  and  woi-st  of  all  is 
it  that  the  largest  fortunes  seem  for  the  most  part  to  fall 
to  the  least  useful  and  unwoi'thiest  members  of  society.  ^ 
If  this  dollai'-woi'^hipping  passion  for  millionaire-manu- 
facture, which  so  unhealthily  characterises  our  time, 
could  but  be  quenched;  if  we  could  scourge  out  of  men's 
minds  the   evil  covetousness  which  would  heap  Ossa  on 

dustry  to  be  supported?  But  we  think  the  difficulty  is  more 
tlian  met  if  we  concede  sufficient  well-to-do  men.  Again,  there 
may  be  no  merchant-princes  to  present  a  gallery  of  art  worth 
£250,000  to  the  nation  ;  but  there  will  be  millions  to  subscribe 
their  guineas  for  such  a  purpose.  It  is  iceli  to  rtmember  how 
rapidly  the  French  raised  the  German  inilUards. 

'  The  record  of  Public  Company  rogueries  during  the  past  few 
years  is  a  terrible  testimony  to  the  poisonous  iulection  of  this 
dollar-worshipping,  soul-killing,  disease. 


God  the  Almighty  Dollar.  239 

Pelion  to  gain  the  Olympic  gold — inainly  in  order  to 
squander  it  on  luxuries  and  dissipations  which  make  the 
sociologist  and  philantiiropist  stand  aghast  with  horror 
and  despair — then,  indeed,  we  should  be  mailing  pro- 
gress. ^ 

'  When  we  hear  that  Vanrfprhilt  is  to  huil'l  himself  a  palace  at 
a  cost  of  four  hundred  thowiand  pounds,  and  that  the  Duke  of 
Westminster  spent — how  much  ? — on  the  building  of  his  ;  tliat 
Woburn  Abbey  was  built  by  the  Duke  of  Bedford  at  a  cost  of 
£80,000,  and  that  the  grounds  are  cut  up  by  60  miles  of  walks 
and  drives,  and  were  laid  out  at  a  cost  of  £40,000  ;  that  Lord 
Burton  settled  £10,000  a  year  on  his  daughter — who,  as  is  re- 
ported, wdll  inherit  £80,000  a  year  on  his  death— besides  payuig 
off  £250,000  incumbrances  on  his  son-in-law's  estate  ;  that 
"  money  poured  into  the  pockets  '  of  that  drunken  and  dissolute 
rowdy,  the  late  Abingdon  Baird,  "  at  the  rate  of  £120,000  a  year," 
and  that  "  the  money  he  misused  in  the  eleven  years  since,  as  a 
young  man  of  twenty,  he  took  to  sport  and  pleasure,  would 
aggregate  to  appalling  figures "  ;  that  a  successful  shopkeeper 
lately  paid  £3,000  for  a  necklace,  and  that  a  famous  prima  donna 
travels  in  a  special  car  containing  a  hath  of  solid  silver ;  that 
the  household  salaries  of  an  aged  lady,  who  happens,  by  a  series 
of  accidents  of  birth  and  death,  to  occupy  the  English  throne, 
involve  an  annual  outlay  of  £136,260,  the  ''expenses"  of  her 
household  a  similar  outlay  of  £172,500,  besides  an  expenditure 
of  £60,000  for  her  privy  purse  ;  that  a  well-known  millionaire 
spent  £12,000  on  a  ball  at  a  London  hotel  ;  that  the  cigars  sup- 
plied to  H.  R.  H.  "  tlie  first  gentleman"  of  England  and  very 
perfect  pattern  to  society,  and  to  a  celebrated  Jew  stock-jobber, 
are  said  to  cost  them  half  a  guinea  each  ;  that  a  certain  young 
Vaughan  of  North-country  repute,  by  dint  of  spending  £40,000 
on  a  billiard-room,  £20  each  on  spittoons,  and  £1,500  on  a  bed- 
stead, contrived  to  run  thro  a  fortune  of  half-a-million  in  eleven 
years  ;  that  Princess  Beatrice's  wedding  cost  £5,000 ;  that,  in 
short,  on  every  side,  wealth  is  being  squandered  in  the  most 
reckless,  stupid,  and  even  hedonically  unprofitable,  waste — 
wealth  wrung  from  Nature  by  the  painful  and  lifelong  toil 
of  our  fellows  whose  cloud-capped  lives  are  never  gladdened 
by  a  gleam  of  sunny  interlude  —  whilst  all  around  tliou- 
sands    are    in    abject    destitution    and    noble    educational    or 


240  God  the  Almighty  Dollar. 

Now  sundry  evils  of  this  milliona're-s^-stem  are  patent 
to  everybody  whose   heart  is  uot  encased  in  triple  brass 

pliilantliropical  schemes  are  languishing  or  stillborn  for  want 
of  a  few  miserable  thousands,  such  as  these  fortuuali  squander 
in  a  day,  and  social  would-be  reformers  are  eating  their 
hearts  in  enforced  apathy — then  we  cannot  but  ask  ourselves 
whether  these  self-bound  millionaires  l)e  really  men  and  women, 
or — what?  Can  such  heartless,  crassly  selfish,  luxury-culture  be 
paralleled  in  other  ages  or  other  climes  ?  Yes  :  the  historian 
recalls  with  a  heavy  heart  the  annals  of  Roman  decadence,  and 
remembers  that  in  the  most  bedevilled  age  of  Kome,  when  the 
Nemesis  of  ruin  was  impending  over  her,  precisely  such  dollar- 
worship  and  such  wasteful  luxury  were  rampant,  A  few  ex- 
tracts from  Roman  history  may  perhaps  be  permissible  in  order 
to  emphasise  the  analogy.  For  instance  : — "  Lucullus  had  so 
regulated  his  house  that  he  could  always  bring  three  of  his 
friends  to  supper  with  him,  and,  without  any  previous  notice, 
set  before  them  a  banquet  of  which  the  expense  was  reckoned  at 
about  £650.  Even  those  men  of  the  aristocracy  who,  like 
Cicero,  had  neither  any  particular  taste  for  expense,  nor  any 
extraordinary  facilities  for  indulging  it,  were  obliijcd  to  maku  aw 
absurd  di-^play  of  luxury  for  the  -sake  of  appearances .-  would  they 
invite  their  friends  to  table,  they  must  at  least  possess  a  proper 
table  .  ,  ,  .  yet  even  Pliny  regards  it  as  incredible  that  Cicero 
should  have  paid  £650  for  such  a  table  "  (Lardner's  History  oj 
Rome,  I.,  'i7A,  355).  "A  table  of  thuja-root,  with  a  claw  of 
silver  or  ivory,  marked  the  man  of  correct  breeding :  he  whose 
table  was  of  beech  or  oak  could  have  no  admittance  to  good 
society  !  In  the  same  manner  cookery  and  plate  were  matters 
of  great  moment  :  sea-fish  could  be  served  up  to  a  man  of  rank 
onlv  on  golden  dishes  set  with  precious  stones  ;  and  his  banquet- 
ing halls  were  filled  with  troops  of  attendants.  .  .  .  The  fac'dily 
of  life  u-hich  had  existed  in  former  times  iras  gone.  Everyone 
who  aimed  at  the  distinctions  of  society  must  be  prepared  with 
the  means  of  satisfying  certain  artificial  wants,  and  of  following 
certain  artificial  fashions"  (Ibid.,  II.,  162,  163).  "  Philotas  de- 
clares himself  to  have  seen,  and  ascertained  from  Antony's 
cook,  that  a  scandalous  and  useless  expense  was  regularly  in- 
curred in  order  that  the  table  might  be  instantly  served  at  any 
time  "  (Ibid.,  II.,  77).  "  As  money  was  the  master-key  to  every 
sort  of  enjoyment,  it  became  the  sole  object  of  pursuit  .... 


God  the  Almighty  Dollar.  241 

of  selfish  lust ;  and  another  less  patent  objection  has  just 
been  pointed  out :  but  there  is  yet  a  third  and  still  less 


unfortunately  the  spirit  of  traffic  tooh  that  dir/'ctron  in  those  timca 
which  it  takes  at  this  day,  so  far  as  it  deals  in  stockjobbing  and 
agiotage,  and  in  joint-stock  undertakings  of  delusive  remoteness 
and  extent"  {Ibid.,  II.,  87).  "  Vitellius'  table  alone  swallowed 
up  sums  so  immense  that  Josephus  doubts  if  the  whole  Roman 
Empire  would  in  the  long  run  have  been  rich  enough  to  bear  tlie 
load  of  the  emperor's  table-expenses  "  (Ibid.,  II.,  130). 

Passing  by  the  similarly  heartless  and  riotous  luxury  of  a 
privileged  few  which  heralded  the  break-up  of  monarchical 
France,  and  which  was  reflected  in  other  courts,  as,  for  instance, 
the  Saxon,  of  which  we  are  told  that  altho  the  country  had  been 
impoverished  and  well-nigh  depopulated  by  the  Thirty  Yeats 
War,  "  the  Elector  George  remodelled  his  court  on  a  scale  of 
splendor  which  for  a  time  rivalled  that  of  Versailles,  so  that 
by  his  expenditure  on  guards,  attendants,  parties,  banquets, 
regattas,  etc.,  he  exhausted  the  electoral  treasury,  and  at  last  re- 
duced the  nation  to  bankruptcy  ;  "  and  again,  "  A  gipsy-party  at 
Miihlberg  cost  three  million  dollars,  of  which  live  thousand  were 
expended  for  porcelain  vessels  for  the  bedchambers  of  the 
Elector  and  his  guests  " — passing  by  these  almost  incredibly 
wicked  excesses,  of  which  this  is  a  single  example  only,  indulged 
in  in  bygone  days,  we  will  cite  two  or  three  final  instances 
from  the  annals  of  contemporary  modern  decay — our  authorities 
for  wliich  are  the  London  daily  papers  :  here  they  are  : — 

"  The  King  of  Siani  has  just  had  a  pavilion  of  glass  built  for 
himself  by  a  Chinese  architect.  Walls,  floors,  and  ceiling,  are 
formed  of  slabs  of  dilTerent  sorts  and  tihcknesses  of  glass  joined 
by  impermeable  cement.  By  one  door  only  can  the  King  enter, 
and  this  closes  hermetically  when  he  comes  in,  and  ventilator 
valves  in  tall  pipes  in  the  roof  open,  as  does  also  a  sluice  beside 
a  large  reservoir  in  which  the  glass  house  stands.  The  trans- 
parent edifice  then  becomes  submerged,  and  the  King  thus  finds 
himself  in  a  cool  and  perfectly  dry  habitation,  where  he  passes 
the  time  singing,  smoking,  eating,  and  drinking." 

"  The  yearly  expenses  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  have  been 
estimated  at  no  less  a  sum  than  six  millions  sterling.  Of  this,  a 
million  and  a  half  alone  is  spent  on  the  clothing  of  the  women, 
and  £S0,000  on  the  Sultan's  own   wardrobe.      Nearly  another 


242  God  the  Almighty  Dollar. 

obvious  mode  in  which  the  million-makor  (indirectly) 
actually  loivers  the  national  wealth  ;  actually  brings  it 
about  that,  to  make  his  colossal  fortune,  not  only  are  so 

million  and  a  half  is  swallowed  up  by  presents,  a  million  goes  for 
pocket-money,  and  still  another  million  for  the  table.  It  seems 
incredible  that  so  much  money  can  possibly  be  spent  in  a  year 
by  one  man,  but  when  it  is  remembered  that  some  fifteen 
hundred  people  live  within  the  palace  walls,  and  live  luxuriously 
and  dress  expensively  at  the  cost  of  the  Civil  List,  it  appears  a 
little  more  comprehensible." 

"  Much  interest  and  curiosity  have  been  excited  in  Bombay  by 
the  arrival  in  the  harbor  of  Mr.  Vanderbilt's  yacht  The  Valiant. 
She  is  manned  by  a  crew  of  seventy -eujht,  and  carried  nine  pas- 
sengers, including  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanderbilt.  The  Valiant  was 
built  at  Birkenhead,  and  is  said  to  have  cost  considerably  over 
£100,000.  Her  length  is  about  300  feet,  the  tonnage  2,400,  and 
the  horse-power  4,500.  The  drawing-room  is  described  as 
occupj'ing  the  whole  breadth  of  the  ship,  and  is  panelled  in  white 
and  gold  in  the  Louis  XIV.  style  ;  the  furniture,  most  of  it  old, 
being  upholstered  in  red  velvet.  There  is  a  library  lined  with 
polished  walnut,  and  having  a  fireplace  with  a  richly-carved 
mantelpiece.  Mrs.  Vanderbilt's  bedroom  is  adorned  with  white 
lacquered  panels  set  in  frames  of  gold  and  ivory,  and  the  curtains 
and  coverings  are  of  Louis  XIV.  old  rose  silk.  Her  sitting-room 
is  furnished  with  mahogany  of  old  English  make,  with  green 
velvet  hangings.  Two  or  three  other  apartments,  decorated  in 
the  Empire  fashion  iu  two  shades  of  blue,  open  out  of  the  larger 
rooms  ;  and  there  is  a  bath,  all  the  appointments  of  which  are  of 
silver-plated  metal.  Ever}'  bit  of  metal  work,  even  to  the  hinges 
of  the  doors  on  the  lower  deck,  is  indeed  either  of  silver  or 
silver-plate.  Mr.  Vanderbilt,  adds  this  account,  has  his  own 
suite  of  cabins  fitted  with  even  greater  splendor  and  luxury 
than  those  of  his  wife,  and  in  his  bedroom,  where  solid  marble 
has  been  freely  used,  are  found  all  sorts  of  automatic  and 
electrical  appliances  to  save  trouble  and  increase  comfort.  She 
has  since  sailed  for  Calcutta  and  other  Indian  ports." 

So  that  our  many  English  and  American  wealth-squanderers 
fall  into  the  same  category  with  dissolute  Romans  of  the  decad- 
ence, and  with  Eastern  barbarians  :  and  the  reflection  is  any- 
thing but  consolatory  to  the  sociologist  and  philantiiropist. 


God  the  Almighty  Dollar.  243 

many  hnndreds  somewhat  poorer,  but  the  national  sum- 
total  of  wealth — which  had  not  so  far  been  affected — is 
prevented  from  increasing  so  much  as  it  otherwise  would, 
or  is  even  actually  diminished.  To  make  this  plain  it  is 
necessary  to  point  out  that  millionaires  may  be  either 
producers  or  non-producers  :  if  the  former,  if  for  instance  a 
millionaire's  wealth  has  been  made  by  inventing  new 
machinery,  new  processes  of  manufacture,  by  building  or' 
designing  railways,  or  in  any  other  such  way,  tJien  is  he 
not  only  no  malefactor,  but  in  truth  a  benefactor  to  the 
community  :  for  in  such  case  his  own  fortune  is  but  a 
proportion  of  all  the  immense  extra  wealth  that  he  has 
created. 

But  if  he  have  made  his  fortune  as  a  non-producer, 
then  this  additional  stricture  becomes  well  deserved. 
Suppose,  for  example,  that  the  millionaire  be  a  great 
advertiser — as  so  many  are :  and  we  will  admit,  first  of 
all,  that  the  wares  which  he  advertises  are  decently  useful 
and  not  mere  quackery.  But  what  does  his  very  adver- 
tising imply  %  When  we  learn  that  Messrs.  Pears  spend 
£100,000  annually  in  advertisements,  whilst  thou- 
sands of  other  firms  adopt  the  procedure  on  a  smaller 
scale,  we  are  simply  being  informed  iu  other  words,  that, 
in  order  (not  to  create  wealth  but)  to  transfer  so  much 
wealth  from  other  persons'  pockets  to  those  of  the  mil- 
lionaire, a  distinct  proportion  of  national  wealth  has  been 
tvasted'^ — rendered  practically  non-existent,  and  a  still 
larger  increment  of  new  wealth  inhibited.  For  how  is  the 
advertisement  effected  ]  By  metallic,  wooden,  or  paper, 
affixes  to  railway  stations,  omnibuses,  hoardings,  etc.,  and 

'  And  sometimes  a  magnificent  mountain-landscape  ruined  by 
the  accursed  advertisement-moiiger  1 


244  God  the  Almighty  Dollar. 

by  printed  advertisements.  However  effected,  an  immense 
amount  of  labor  is  devoted  to  printing  and  otherwise  pre- 
paring these  advertisements — all  of  whieli  labor  might 
else  have  been  used  in  producing  new  wealth.  When,  in 
addition  to  this,  the  very  considerable  value  of  the  metals 
now  used  so  extensively,  and  of  the  various  other  material 
media  employed,  and  also  the  gradual  destruction  of 
wealth  by  the  wear  and  tear  of  printers'  type,  are  noted — 
in  fact  when  we  sum  up  all  that  is  involved  in  the  expense 
of  advertising,  we  must  admit  that  the  non  producing, 
self-made,  million-heaper  (however  honest  and  worthy  per- 
sonally) is  literally  a  noxious  parasite  living  and  swel- 
ling on  the  blood  of  the  nation.  All  the  enormous  staff 
of  billposters  and  advertisement-mongers  are,  indirectly 
and  in  final  resort,  just  as  much  hept  by  the  nation,  are 
just  as  much  a  drain  upon  every  worker's  resources,  as 
are  the  lawyers  and  police.  So  that  the  sum-total  of 
wealth-loss  entailed  upon  the  nation  by  this  pernicious, 
mammon- worshipping,  almighty-dollar-adoring,  practice 
of  the  non-producing  millionaire  is  a  matter  for  grave 
anxiety  :  and  there  is  a  crying  need  for  reforming  away 
this  cancerous  disea&o,  that  is  daily  eating  more  fatally  into 
the  moral  fibre  of  the  nation.  We  had  long  felt — as  indeed 
any  reflective  man  must — that  this  incessant  advertising, 
of  even  the  most  useful  articles,  was  symptomatic  of  an 
unhealthy  and  restless  age  ;  and  that  a  distinct  social  ad- 
vance would  be  characterised  by  a  subsidence  thereof: 
but,  not  until  we  sat  down  to  write  out  these  speculations, 
did  we  fully  realise  the  enormous  wealth-loss  entailed  by 
our  gigantic  advertising  system.  ^     It  is  probable  that  in 

'  Ami  if  furthermore  the  articles  advertised  be  not  genuine,  but 


God  the  Almighty  Dollar.  245 

a  more  healthy  social  state  men  would  regard  the  passion 
for  amassing  an  immense  fortune  in  much  the  same  light 
as  we  should  regard  a  would-be-feudal  baron  to-day ;  and 
indeed  it  will  become  progressively  more  and  more  diffi- 
cult— except  perhaps  for  great  discoverers  and  other  such 
wealth-producers — to  make  such  fortunes  ;  but  the  present 
type  of  millionaire  who  makes  his  fortune  by  advertising,^ 
bv  claiming  as  his  own  the  national  mineral  wealth, 
simply  because  the  mines  are  beneath  his  land,  or  by 
gambling  or  cheating  in  stocks  and  shares — such  types  as 
these  will  probably  become  extinct — if  only  for  the  same 
reason  that  would  render  impossible  for  a  fish  existence 
without  water.  ^ 

We  cannot — nowadays— too  constantly  or  earnestly 
remind  ourselves  that  this  greed  and  hist  of  money,  and 
this  ivorship  of  extravagance  and  waste  ordained  by 
"fashion,"  are  the  deep-seated  social  diseases,  uncured  of 
which  no  nation  can  be  safe  or  liealthy  :  liovvever  ridicul- 
ously and    preposterously  caricatured    by   crack-brained 

some  miserable  lying  riuackery,  then  in  addition  to  all  this  loss 
we  have  an  enormous  actual  waste  of  wealth  in  producing  material 
lies. 

1  Often  qnackeries. 

"^  We  have  vainly  endeavored  to  obtain  some  statistics  as  to  the 
expenditure  on  railway-station  advertisements,  etc.  :  but  we  may 
commend  the  subjoined  extract  to  our  readers'  reflection.  We 
sliould  greatly  like  to  have  had  the  flavoring  of  that  dinner.  "  A 
dinner  which  is  probably  as  yet  unique  in  its  character  has  been 
arranged  to  take  place.  It  will  consist  of  principals  of  the  chief 
advertising  firms,  and  will  be  presided  over  by  Mr.  T.  J.  Barratt, 
managmg  director  of  Messrs.  Pears  &  Co.,  supported  in  the  vice- 
chair  by  Mr.  Beecham,  of  St.  Helen's.  The  little  party  ivill  it  is 
believed  represent  an  advertising  expenditure  to  the  extent  of  some- 
thing like  one  million  sterling."     {Daily  News,  June  23,  1S93.) 


246  God  the  AlmigJity  Dollar. 

ascetics  of  all  times,  yet  there  is  profound  truth  in  the 
apostolic  injunction  that  the  love  of  money  is  a  root  of 
all  kinds  of  evils.  As  we  have  insisted  over  and  over 
again  in  tlie  foregoing  pages,  and  as  one  cannot  too  con- 
stantly or  too  emphatically  I'eiterate,  the  one  indispens- 
able  reform  that  viust  precede  any  development  of  a 
markedly  higher  social  state,  is  the  adoption  of  a  simpler 
life — the  abolition  of  that  many-headed,  but  brainless 
and  heartless,  monster,  "  fashionable  society,"  with  all  its 
follies,  wickedness,  and  extravagances.  But  we  must 
confess  to  having  but  faint  hopes  of  any  immediate 
reform  when  we  note  that  the  worst  examples  of  arrant 
waste,  luxury,  and  extravagance,  have  their  fountainhead 
in    tlie   throne   itself/    that    the   heir-apparent   to   the 

'  The  Queen's  annual  journeys  to  and  from  Scotland  are  said 
t(i  involve  an  annual  expense  of  £6,000 — enough  to  keep,  at  least, 
twenty  families  in  ease  and  comfort !  We  subjoin  extracts  from 
an  account  given  of  the  royal  train  in  the  Daily  News  (May, 
1893),  that  our  readers  may  judge  what  sort  of  an  example  in 
simple  living  is  set  to  her  subjects  by  the  "  Mother  of  the 
I'eople"  : — "The  train  consisted  of  an  engine  and  tifteen  carriages, 
its  total  length  being  five  hundred  and  thirty-three  feet.  The 
Qut^en's  saloons,  a  very  liandsomely-e(|uii)ped  drawing-room  and 
sleeping  car,  were  coupled  in  the  middle  of  tlie  train.  Both 
carriages  were  panelled  externally  in  claret,  white,  and  gold, 
adorned  with  the  Royal  Anns,  and  surrounded  by  a  carved 
floral  border  of  roses,  thistles,  aud  shamiocks,  the  ornamental 
glass  in  the  side  windows  being  engraved  with  devices  represent- 
ing the  orders  of  the  Garter,  Bath,  and  Thistle.  The  drawing- 
room  car  was  upholstered  witii  variegated  woods  and  blue- 
watered  silk,  and  lighted  by  lamps  depending  from  the  ceiling, 
the  gilt  cornice  of  which  was  centred  by  a  handsome  clock. 
Cerulean  sliaded  reading-lamps,  supported  by  richly-chased 
ormolu  brackets,  were  placed  upon  a  console  table  for  the  use 
of  the  Queen.  The  sleeping  car  was  divided  into  two  apart- 
ments, th&,t  next  tlio  drawing-room  being  panelled  w  itli  crimson 


God  the  AhnigJity  Dollar.  247 

English  Crown  consorts,  not  with  the  leaders  of  thousht 
and  culture,  but  with  stockjobbers  and  "  sportsmen " ; 
and  that  his  influence  is  typified,  not  by  a  radiation  of 
pure  tone  and  healthy  life,  but  by  the  introduction  of 
baccarat-gambling  into  private  houses.  We  do  not  now 
expect,  or  even  relish,  a  genius  for  government  in  our 
kings ;  but,  tho  political  cyphers,  they  may  exert  a 
potent  influence  for  good  or  ill  on  the  whole  tone  of 
society:^  and  if  they  do  not  the  former — if,  worst  of  all, 
they  do  the  latter — their  "  subjects  "  may  well  inquire  of 
what  service  they  be :  why  cumber  they  the  ground  ] 
When  one  thinks  of  the  immense  social  good  that  a  king 
or  prince — tho  politically  a  cypher — might  yet  effect  as 
the  acknowledged  head  of  society ;  of  the  wickednesses 
and  follies  and  extravagances  that  he  might  discounten- 
ance ;  and  of  the  pure  and  healthy  tone  that  he  migh'. 
infuse;  one  cannot  but  be  appalled  by  the  thought  of 
how  vast  a  responsibility  for  wrong  done  and  good  not 
done  must  rest  upon  the  shoulders  of  Royalty.  Perhaps 
one  day — if  Royalty  last  so  long  and  be  not  first  super- 
seded by  a  Republic — our  successors  may  find  a  queen 
who  can  live  on  less  than  £340,000  per  year,  and  can  go 
out  of  town  without  a  suite  of  fifty  servants ;  who  can 
use  "drawing-rooms"  nut  for  the  subservice  of  frivolity 

tinted  material  and  provided  with  small  brass  bedsteads  having 
mattresses  covered  with  green  silk  ;  while  the  Ro\al  Ijoudoir  was 
neatly  fitted  with  Hungarian  ash  and  brown  iipliolstery. " 

1  It  must  be  a  matter  of  deep  regret  to  every  true  patrint  tlat 
the  Prince  Consort  died  thirty  years  ago.  Bat  probably  it 
never  strikes  H.R.H.  that  his  life  of  omissions  and  comnnssions 
excites  the  most  unspeakable  contempt  in  the  minds  of  thnsf? 
who  think  life  a  serious  matter,  and  moral  progress  bi  mething 
more  than  an  empty  catchword. 


24^  God  the  Almighty  Dollar. 

and  waste,  but  for  the  promotion  of  simplicity  and  re- 
finement, by  refusing  an  entree  to  trains,  feathers,  and 
jewels :  perhaps  they  may  see  a  prince  living  with 
marked  simplicity  as  a  private  gentleman  might,  and 
setting  to  society  an  example  of  teetotalism,  simple 
cookery,  pure  taste,  and  healthy  life — a  prince,  too, 
proud  to  be  known  as  the  companion  of  philosophers, 
scientists,  poets,  artists,  and  philanthropists,  but  treat- 
ing with  ineffable  scorn  the  great  herd  of  empt3'-headed 
"dudes,"  rapacious  stockjobbers,  reckless  gamblers,  and 
"  sporting  "  blackguards.  Perhaps,  that  may  be  reserved 
as  an  experience  for  the  future — stranger  things  have 
ha])pened — but  to  count  on  all  this  is  to  point  a  long 
long  way  ahead ;  and  we  of  to-day  are  hardly  upon  the 
Pisgah-platform.  Yet  if  everyone  of  us  would  btit  mould 
his  own  life,  in  some  tolerable  degree,  approximately  to 
the  social  ideal  here  roughly  outlined,  how  vastly  quick- 
ened would  Utopia's  advent  be  !  It  is  impossible  too 
emphatically  to  insist  upon  this  truth — that  the  one  in- 
dispensable preliminary  to  such  a  change  is  a  change  in 
the  feelings,  aspirations,  and  thoughts,  of  men.  And  here 
it  is  precisely  that  we  of  to-day,  we  collectiv^ely,  might 
do  so  much  good — viz.,  by  right  truly  educating  our 
children.  The  whole  public  opinion  must  be  educated, 
and  radically  reformed  :  how  so  effectively  as  by  rightly 
training,  from  the  first,  the  rising  generation]  Thro'out 
— be  it  observed — we  are  looking  to  a  natural  process  of 
social  evolution  for  the  working  of  all  reforms  :  and  to 
no  arbitrary  artificial  enactment  of  a  colossally  ignorant, 
criminally  reckless,  and  partly  dishonest,  governmental 
organisation   that,   with    insane   conceit,   supposes  itself 


God  the  Almighty  Dollar.  249 

able  to  mould  human  nature  and  human  institutions  by 
Acts  of  Parliament.  No ;  no ;  the  whole  change  to  be 
healthy,  and  to  be  effectual,  must  be  a  naturally  evolved 
product :  but  we  may  vastly  assist  the  one  half  of  the 
evolutionary  process,  by  educating-  men  to  desire  it;  a 
very  main  obstacle  to  social  advance  will  then  have  been 
removed. 

"  The  world's  Great  Age  begins  anew,         * 
The  Golden  Years  return; 
The  Earth  doth,  like  a  snake,  renew 
Her  winter-weeds  outworn: 
Heaven  smiles  ;  and  faiths  and  empires  gleam 
Like  wrecks  of  a  dissolving  dream." 

"  The  world  is  weary  of  the  past ; 
Oh  might  it  die — or  i-est — at  last." 


17 


AIM'HNDIX   I. 

We  have  already  remarkeil  upon  the  identity  that  we  havceiDco 
discovered  lietwcen  many  of  the  suggestions  maile  in  this  essay, 
and  tlie  propositi<nis  set  foith  by  Mr.  W.  Morris  in  his  Ho^tt*  and, 
Ffctrsfor  Art :  we  may,  therefor,  without  further  preface,  take 
this  opportunity'  of  quoting  two  or  three  passages  wliich  are  very 
relevant  to  tlie  discussions  in  this  last  chapter  and  in  Ciiapters 
IX.,  X.,  and  XI.  Says  Mr.  Morris — "  Nothing  can  be  a  work  of 
Arc  wliich  is  not  useful  ;  that  is  to  say,  which  does  not  nunister 
Co  the  body  when  well  under  command  of  the  mind,  or  which 
does  not  amuse,  soothe,  or  elevate,  tlie  mind  in  a  healtiiy  state. 

"  What  tons  upon  tons  of  imiitternble  rnbhlfh,  pretending  to  be 
works  of  Art  in  some  degree,  would  this  maxim  clear  out  of  our 
London  houses,  if  it  were  unders(,oo:l  and  acted  upon  !"  (p.  31.) 

'■'■Simplicity  of  (i/r,  l)egetting  simplicity  of  taste,  that  is,  a  love 
for  sweet  and  lofty  tilings,  is  of  all  matters  most  necessai'V  for 
the  birth  of  the  new  and  better  Art  we  crave  for:  simplicity 
everywhere,  in  the  palace  as  well  as  in  the  cottage."  (p.  32.) 

"  As  to  the  bricklayer,  the  mason,  and  the  like — these  would 
be  artists,  and  doing  not  only  necessary',  but  beautiful,  and  tiiere- 
for  happy,  work,  if  Art  were  anything  like  what  it  shouhl  he  I 
No  ;  it  is  not  such  labor  as  this  which  we  need  to  jlo  away  with, 
but  the  toil  ichich  makes  the  thousand  and  one  things  which  nobody 
wants."  (p.  03.) 

" troublesome  superfluities  that  are  for  ever  in  our  way  ; 

conventional  coinfort.s  that  are  no  real  comforts,  and  do  liut 
make  work  for  servants  and  doctors  ;  if  you  want  a  golden  rule 
that  will  fit  everybody,  this  is  it  :  Have  nothing  ni  your  houses 
that  you  do  not  kiiotr  to  be  ii><efid,  or  believe  to  be  beautiful."  (p.  108  ) 

One  might  easily  multiply  quotations  from  this  delightful 
book,  but  the  foregoing  are  sufficient  to  show  iiow  strikingly  Mr. 
Morris's  conclusions — from  the  side  of  trained  Art — bear  out  our 
own  :  and  we  will  only  instance — without  quotation — iiis  direc- 
tions for  house-decoration  and  furnishing  as  bearing  out  our 
own  pleas  for  sim])licity  of  Life :  in  fact,  much  of  Mr.  Morris's 
l)ook  may  be  taken  as  an  illustration  of  what  we  have  said  in 
Chapter  IX.  as  regards  choosing  th''  least  evil. 

To  one  apparent  point  of  marked  divergence  we  have  already 
alluded  (p.  216  footnote  AH/v/a.)  :  and  in  conclusion  we  can  only 
Bay  to  everyone  whose  heart  is  set  upon  social  betterment — Bead 
lum:  read,  mark,  learn,  and  hucardly  digest,  with  a  modicum  oj 
critical  sauce,  certainly,  that  Golden  Book  (loth  February,  1S93). 

Still  more  recently  we  have  had  an  opportunity  of  reading  Mr. 
Lewis  Days  Art  in  Evtry-ilaji  Life,  and  must  take  the  opportunity 
of  cordiallj^  recommer.tling  a  perusal  of  this  book  in  company 
with  Mr.  Morris'.  It  was  unconiinonly  satisfactory  to  us  to  tind 
]\Ir.  Day  insisting  on  what  has  for  some  time  been  a  pet  notion 
with  us — the  utter  absurditj',  wp,  mean,  of  giving  up  a  room  in 
every  house,  however  small,  as  a  "  drawing-room  "  for  use  on 
state  occasions  !  This  is  a  silly  ploce  of  ill-bred  snobbishness  that, 
■w  ith  Mr,  Day,  we  wish,  rather  than  expect,  to  see  disappear. 

APPENDIX  XL 

QrrTF.  recently  we  have  come  across,  in  Wallace's  ^fulay  .4rrh-i- 
2.10 


Appendix.  251 

pelago,  a  passage  hearing  so  strongly  on  the  suhject-matter  of 
this  work,  that  we  must  give  ourself  the  pleasui  e  of  transcribing 
it.  We  need  scarcely  add  tliat  with  nearly  every  word  of  the 
following  admirable  remarks  we  are  in  the  very  heartiest  accord. 

"  What  is  this  ideally  perfect  social  state  towards  which  man 
ever  has  been  and  still  is  tending  ?  ....  In  such  a  state  every 
man  would  have  a  sufficiently  well-balanced  intellectual  orgnnisa- 
tion  to  understand  tlie  moral  law  in  all  its  details,  and  would  re- 
quire no  otlier  motives  but  the  free  impulses  of  his  own  nature 
to  obey  the  law. 

"  Now  it  is  very  remarkable  that  among  people  in  a  very  low 
stage  of  civilisation  we  find  some  approach  to  such  a  perfect 
social  state.  1  iiave  lived  with  communities  of  savages,  in  South 
America  and  in  the  East,  who  have  no  laws  or  law-courts  liut 
the  public  opinion  of  the  village  freely  expressed.  Each  man 
s  :iupulous]y  respects  the  rights  of  his  fellow,  and  any  infraction 
of  these  rights  rarely  or  never  takes  place.  In  such  a  com- 
munity all  are  nearly  equal.  There  are  none  of  those  wide 
distinctions  of  education  and  ignorance,  Avealth  and  poverty, 
master  and  servant,  which  are  the  product  of  our  civilisation  ; 
there  is  none  of  that  widespread  division  of  labor  which,  while  it 
increases  wealth,  produces  also  conflicting  interests  :  there  is  not 
that  severe  competition  and  sti'uggle  for  existence  or  for  wealth 
which  the  dense  population  of  civilised  countries  inevitably 
creates  ;  all  incitements  to  great  crimes  are  thus  wanting,  and 
petty  ones  are  repressed,  partly  by  the  influence  of  public 
opinion,  but  chiefly  by  that  natural  sense  of  justice  and  of  his 
neighbor's  rights,  which  seem  to  be,  to  some  degree,  inherent  in 
any  race  of  num. 

"  Now  altho  we  have  progressed  vastly  beyond  the  savage 
state  in  intellectual  achievements,  we  have  not  advanced  equally 

in  morcdx It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  mass  of  our 

jiopuiation  have  not  at  all  advanced  beyond  the  savage  code  of 
morals,  and  liave  in  many  cases  sunk  below  it.  A  deficient 
morality  is  the  yreat  blot  of  modern  civilisation,  and  the  greatest 
hindrance  to  true  iwogress  "  {Malay  Archipelago,  p.  595-6  :  7th 
tdition,  1880). 

Again  "  we  should  now  clearly  recognise  the  fact  that  the 
wealth  and  knowledge  and  culture  of  the  few  do  not  constitute 
civilisation,  and  do  not  of  themselves  advance  ,us  towards  the 
'perfect  social  state.'  Our  vast  manufacturing  system,  our 
gigantic  commerce,  our  crowded  towns  and  cities,  support  and 
continually  renew  a  mass  of  human  misery  and  crime  ab-'^olutely 
greater  than  has  ever  existed  befoi'e.  They  create  and  maintain 
in  lifelong  labor  an  ever  increasing  army,  whose  lot  is  the  more 
hard  to  bear  by  contrast  with  tiie  pleasures,  the  comforts,  and 
the  luxury,  which  they  see  everywhere  around  them,  but  which 
tliey  can  never  hope  to  enjoy  ;  and  who  in  this  respect  are  worse 
off  than  the  savage  in  the  midst  of  his  tribe. 

"This  is  not  a  result  to  boast  of  or  to  be  satisfied  with;  and,  until 
there  is  a  more  general  recognition  of  this  failure  of  our  civilisa- 
tion— resulting  mainly  from  our  neglect  to  train  and  develop  more 
thoroly  the  sympafhet/r  feelings  and  moral  faculties  of  our  nature, 
and  to  allow  tiieai  a  larger  share  of  influence  in  our  iei.'i.slatleii, 


252  Appendix. 

oiir  eommeroe,  and  our  whole  social  organisation — we  shall  never, 
as  regar.ls  tlie  whole  coiniminity,  attain  to  any  real  or  iujpor- 

tant  superiority  over  the  better  class  of  savages 

We  are  the  richest  country  in  the  world,  and  yet  one- 
twentieth    of    our    population    are    parish-paupers,    and    one- 

tliirtieth    known    criminals We   allow    over   a    hundred 

thousand  persons  known  to  have  no  means  of  subsistence, 
but  by  crime,  to  remain  at  large  and  to  prey  upon  the  com- 
munity, iin<l  many  thousand  cliildren  to  grow  up  before  our 
oyes  in  ignorance  and  vice  to  supply  trained  criminals  for  the 
next  generation.  This,  in  a  country  which  boasts  of  its  rapid 
increase  in  wealth,  of  its  enormous  commerce  and  gigantic  manu- 
factures, of  its  mechanical  skill  and  scientific  knowledge,  of  its 
high  civilisation  and  its  pure  Christianity — I  can  but  term  a  state 
of  social  barbarism.  We  also  boast  of  our  love  of  justice,  and 
that  the  law  protects  rich  and  poor  alike ;  yet  we  retain  money-tines 
as  a  punishment,  and  make  tiie  very  first  steps  to  obtain  justice 
a  matter  of  expense — iii  botii  cases  a  barbarous  injustice  or 
denial  of  justice  to  the  poor.  Again  our  laws  render  it  possible 
tliat,  by  mere  neglect  of  a  legal  form,  and  contrary  to  his  own 
wish  and  intention,  a  man's  property  may  all  go  to  a  stranger — and 
his  children  be  left  destitute.  .  .  .'We  permit  absolute  possession 
of  the  soil  of  our  country — with  no  legal  rights  of  existence  on  the 
soil  to  the  vast  majority  who  do  not  possess  it.  A  great  land- 
holder may  legally  convert  his  whole  property  into  a  forest  or  a 
hunting  ground,  and  expel  every  human  being  who  has  hitherto 
lived  upon  it.  In  a  thickly-populated  country  like  England,  where 
every  acre  has  its  owner  or  its  occupier,  this  is  a  power  of  legally 
destroying  his  fellow-creatures ;  and  that  such  a  power  should 
exist,  and  be  exercised  by  individuals,  in  however  small  a  degree, 
indicates  that,  as  regards  "true  social  science,  we  are  still  in  a  state 
of  barbarism"  {Malay  Archipelago :  7th  edition;  p.  696-8). 

APPENDIX  III. 
We  have  recently  had  an  opportunity  of  reading  Mr.  Ruskin's 
Muyiera  Fulveris,  and  gladly  take  the  opportunity  to  quote  the  fol- 
lowing passage,  which  shows  that,  in  some  respects  at  any  rate,  Mr. 
PiiLskiu  by  his  own  road  has  arrived  at  precisely  the  same  goal  as  po- 
litical economists  and  various  scientific  sociologists  have  guided  us  to. 
Says  Mr.  Kuskin  :  "  The  only  final  check  upon  it '  must  be 
radical  purif  cation  of  the  national  character.  .  .  .  But  in  this  more 
than  in  anvthing,  Plato's  words  ...  are  true,  that  neither  drugs, 
nor  charms,  nor  burnings,  will  touch  a  deep-lying  political  sore  any 
more  than  a  deep  bodily  one ;  but  only  right  and  utter  change  of 
constitution  ;  and  that  "they  do  but  lose  their  labor  who  think  that 
by  any  tricks  of  law  they  can  get  the  better  of  those  mischiefs  of 
commerce,  and  see  not  that  they  hew  at  an  hydra"  -'  [5/7/93]. 

1  We  are  not  to  be  under.stood  as  endorsing  the  context  of  this  passage. 

2  P.  101  :  edition  18S0.  Italics  our  own.  We  would  like  to  express  our 
vehement  agreement  with  Mr.  Ruskin  (Crown  of  Wild  Olire.  p.  41-4'2)  as  to 
the  wickedness  of  lending  money  to  fighting  powers  (such  as  Kussia)  who  are 
raising  war- loans. 


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This  essay,  in  which  Prof.  Weismann's  theories  are  criticised,  is  reprinted 
from  the  Contemporary  Reviezv,  and  comprises  a  forcible  presentation  of 
Mr.  Spencer's  views  upon  the  general  subject  indicated  in  the  title. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.   APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

S^OCIALISM   NEW   AND    OLD.        By    Professor 
^      William  Graham.     i2mo.     Cloth,  Si. 75. 

"  Prof.  Graham's  book  may  be  confidently  recommended  to  all  who  are  interested 
in  the  study  of  socialism,  and  not  so  intoxicated  with  its  promises  of  a  new  heaven  a'ld 
a  new  earth  as  lo  be  impatient  of  temperate  and  reasoned  criticism." — London  Timt^s. 

"  Altogether  Mr.  Graham  has  given  us  a  useful  discussion,  and  one  that  deserves  lo 
be  read  by  all  who  are  interested  in  the  subject." — Sa'fnce. 

"Prof.  Graham  presents  an  outline  of  the  successive  schemes  of  three  writers  wl'o 
have  cliif  fly  influenced  the  development  of  socialism,  and  dwells  at  lengtli  upon  the 
system  of  Rousseau,  that  of  St.  .Simon,  and  on  that  of  Karl  Mar.x,  the  founder  of  t  e 
new  socialism,  '  which  has  gained  favor  with  the  working  classes  in  all  civilized  coun- 
tries." which  agrees  with  Rousseau's  plan  in  being  democratic,  and  with  .St  Simon's  in 
aiming  at  collective  ownership.  .  .  .  The  professor  is  an  inde|)endent  thinker,  whose 
endeavor  to  be  clear  has  resulted  in  the  statement  of  defii  ite  conclusions.  The  book 
is  a  remarkably  fair  digest  of  the  subject  under  C'>nsideralljn."—P/n7atA-//'/iia  L^Jger. 

r\  YNAMIC  SOCIO  LOG  Y ;  or,  Applied  Social  Science, 

-L^   as  based  upon  Statical  Sociology  and  the  less  Complex  Scien-ces. 

By  Lester  F.  Ward,  A.  M.     In  2  vols.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $5.00. 

"A  book  that  will  amply  repay  perusal.  .  .  .  Recognizing  the  danger  in  whiih 
sociology  is,  of  falling  into  the  class  of  dead  sciences  or  polite  amusements,  Mr.  W.ird 
has  undertaken  to  '  point  out  a  method  by  which  the  breath  of  life  can  be  breathed  into 
its  nostiils.'  " — Rochester  Post  Express. 

"  Mr.  Ward  has  evidently  put  great  labor  and  thought  into  his  two  volumes,  and 
has  produced  a  work  of  interest  and  importance.  He  does  not  limit  his  effort  to  a  c<m- 
tribution  to  the  science  of  sociology.  .  .  .  He  believes  that  sociology  has  a'ready 
reached  the  point  at  which  it  can  be  and  ought  to  be  applied,  treated  as  an  art,  and  he 
urues  that  '  the  State '  or  Government  now  has  a  new,  legitimate,  and  peculiar  field  for 
the  exercise  of  intelligence  to  promote  the  welf:<re  of  men." — New  York  Titnei. 

='  .\  fundamental  discussion  of  many  of  the  most  important  questions  of  science  and 
philosophy  in  their  bearings  upon  social  economy  and  human  affairs  in  general.  It 
does  not  treat  directly  tliese  current  questions  in  any  department,  and  yet  it  furnishes 
the  basis  in  science  and  in  logic  for  the  correct  solution  of  nearly  all  of  them.  It  is 
therefore  exceedingly  opportune,  as  there  has  never  been  a  period  in  which  greater  ac- 
tivity existed  in  the  direction  of  thoroughly  working  out  and  scientifically  settling  the 
problems  of  social,  national,  and  individual  life." — ll'as/iingion  Star. 

ipREELAND :   A  Social  Anticipation.     By  Dr.  Theo- 
-*•         BOR  Hertzka.     121110.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"A  treatise  on  social  economics  somewhat  on  the  plan  of  Bellamy's  '  T.ooking 
Backward.'  Dr.  Hertzka  has  actually  founded  a  socialist  colony  in  Africa,  upon  the 
lines  laid  down  in  this  book,  and  '  Freeland  '  is  the  imaginary  history  of  the  future  of 
the  colony.  It  will  doubtless  be  the  cause  of  much  comment  and  discussion." — San 
Francisco  Evening  Post. 

"  A  politico-economic  romance  in  which  is  elaborated  a  comprehensive  and  philo- 
sophic scheme  of  social  reorganization.  Its  author  is  a  Viennese  economist  of  emi- 
nence. .  .  .  Dr.  Hertzka's  conception  of  an  ideal  social  state,  his  'Anticipation'  is  well 
worth  careful  and  sympathetic  reading." — Detroit  Tribune. 

"In  the  end  Freeland  reaches  a  stftte  of  universal  prosperity  and  contentment  now 
unheard  of.  Dr.  Hertzka  assures  the  reader  that  he  has  drawn  no  Itopia.  but  a  prac- 
ticable community,  such  as  a  sufficient  number  of  vigorous  mm  can  establish  in  other 
eligible  parts  of  the  world  as  well  as  in  the  highlands  of  Africa."— 0«tv««<i// T/w/w 
Star. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


E 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


VOLUTION    OF    MAN    AND    CHRISTIAN- 
ITY.    New  edition.      By  the   Rev.  Howard  MacQueary. 
With  a  new  Preface,  in  which  the  Author  answers  his  Critics, 
and  with  some  important  Additions.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 
"  This  is  a  revised  and  enlarged  edition  of  a  book  published  last  year.     The  author 
reviews  criticisms  upon  the  first  edition,  denies  that  he  rejects  the  doctrine  of  the  ii.- 
carnation,  admits  his  doubts  of  the  physical  resurrection  of  Christ,  and  his  belief  in 
evolution.     The  volume  is  to  be  marked  as  one  of  the  most  profound  expressions  of  the 
modern  movement  toward  broader  theological  positions." — Brooklyn  1  imes. 

"  He  does  not  write  with  the  animus  of  the  destructive  school;  he  intends  to  be, 
and  honestly  believes  he  is,  doing  a  work  of  construction,  or  at  least  of  reconstruction. 
.  .  .  He  writes  with  manifest  earnestness  and  conviction,  and  in  a  style  which  is  always 
clear  and  energetic." — Churchman. 


H 


I  STORY  OF    THE    CONFLICT   BETWEEN 

RELIGION   AND    SCIENCE.     By  Dr.   John   William 
Draper.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 

"The  key-note  to  this  volume  is  found  in  the  antagonism  between  the  progressive 
tendencies  of  the  human  mind  and  the  pretensions  of  ecclesiastical  authority,  as  de- 
veloped in  the  history  of  modern  science.  No  previous  writer  has  treated  the  subject 
from  this  point  of  view,  and  the  present  monograph  will  be  found  to  possess  no  less 
originality  of  conception  than  vigor  of  reasoning  and  wealth  of  erudition." — New  Y(.rk 
Tribune. 

/J   CRITLCAL  HL STORY  OF  FREE  THOUGHT 

-^     IN  REFERENCE   TO   THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 

By  Rev.  Canon  Adam  Storey  Farrar,  D.  D.,  F.  R.  S.,  etc. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.00. 

"  A  conflict  mi^ht  naturally  be  anticipated  between  the  reasoning  faculties  of  man 
and  a  religion  which  claims  the  right,  on  superhuman  authority,  to  impose  limits  on 
the  field  or  manner  of  their  e.\ercise.  It  is  the  chief  of  the  movements  of  free  thought 
which  it  is  my  purpose  to  describe,  in  their  historic  succession,  and  their  connection 
with  intellectual  causes.  We  must  ascertain  the  facts,  discover  the  causes,  and  read 
the  moraL" — The  Author. 

CREATION  OR    EVOLUTION ?     A  PhilosopJiical 
Inquiry.     By  George  Ticknor  Curtis.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.00. 

"  a  treatise  on  the  great  question  of  Creation  or  Evolution  by  one  who  is  neither  a 
naturalist  nor  theologisn,  and  wlio  does  not  profess  to  bring  to  the  discussion  a  special 
equipment  in  either  of  the  sciences  which  the  controversy  arrays  against  each  oiher, 
may  seem  strange  at  first  sight;  but  Mr.  Curtis  will  satisfy  the  reader,  before  many  pages 
have  been  turned,  that  he  has  a  substantial  contribution  to  malce  to  the  debate,  and  that 
his  book  is  one  to  be  treated  with  respect^  His  part  is  to  apply  to  ihe  reasonings  of  the 
men  of  science  the  rigid  scrutiny  with  which  the  lawyer  is  accustomed  to  test  the  value 
and  pertinency  of  testimony,  and  the  legitimacy  of  inferences  from  established  facts." 
— Setv  York  Tribune. 

"Mr.  Curtis's  book  is  honorably  distinguished  from  a  sadly  too  great  proportion  of 
treatises  which  profess  to  discuss  the  relation  of  scientific  theories  to  religion,  by  its 
author's  thorou-2;h  acquaintance  with  his  subject,  his  scrupulous  fairness,  and  remark- 
able freedom  from  passion." — London  Literary  World. 


D.  APPLETON    &    CO..  72  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York, 


H 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


YFNOTISM,  MESMERISM,  AND  THE 
XEIV  WITCHCRAFT.  By  Ernest  Hart,  formerly  Sur- 
geon to  the  West  London  Hospital,  and  Ophthalmic  Surgeon 
to  St.  Mary's  Hospital,  London.  With  20  Illustrations.  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  Dr.  Hart  is  not  an  enemy  of  the  spiritual,  but  he  gives  ground  to  neither  the 
supernatural  nor  the  preternatural  when  he  can  help  it.  His  state  of  mind  is  generally 
impartial."—  Chicago  Post. 

"  Mr.  Hart  holds  it  as  proved  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt  that  the  hypnotic  con- 
dition is  an  admitted  clinical  fact,  and  declares  that  the  practice  of  hypnotism,  except 
by  skilled  physicians,  should  be  forbidden.  He  nffirms  its  therapeutic  uselessness,  and 
cundenuis  the  practice  because  of  the  possibilities  of  social  mischiefs.  ...  His  per- 
sonal e.xptriences  in  the  '  New  Witchcraft '  enable  him  to  exercise  a  critical  check  on 
the  wild  theories  and  unsupported  assertions  of  others." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

ll/fESMERISM,    SPIRITUALISM,    ETC.,   IIIS- 
IVI    TOR IC ALLY    AND      SCIENTIFICALLY     CONSID- 
ERED.    By  William  B.  Carpenter,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  S.     i2mo. 

Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  The  reader  of  these  lectures  will  see  that  my  whole  aim  is  to  discover, 
on  the  generally  accepted  principles  of  testimony,  what  are  facts  ;  and  to 
discriminate  between  facts  and  the  inferences  drawn  from  them.  I  have  no 
other  '  theory  '  to  support  than  that  of  the  constancy  of  the  well-ascertained 
laws  of  Nature." — From  the  li-eface. 


P 


N 


PRINCIPLES    OF    MENTAL    PHYSIOIOGY. 

With  their  Application  to  the  Training  and  Discipline  of  the 
Mind,  and  the  Study  of  its  Morbid  Conditions.  By  William 
B.  Carpenter,  M.  D.,  F.  R  S.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $3.00. 

"  Among  the  numerous  eminent -writers  this  country  has  produced  none  are  more 
deserving  of  praise  for  having  attempted  to  apply  the  results  of  physiological  research 
to  the  explanation  of  the  mutual  relations  of  the  mind  and  body  than  Dr.  Carpenter." 
— London  Lancet. 

ATURE  AND  MAN:  Essays,  Scientific  and 
Philosophical.  By  William  B.  Carpenter,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  S. 
With  an  Introductory  Memoir  by  J.  EsTLiN  Carpenter,  M.  A., 
and  a  Portrait.     l2mo.     Cloth,  $2.25. 

"  Few  works  could  be  mentioned  that  give  a  better  general  view  of  the  change  that 
has  been  wrought  in  men's  conceptions  of  life  and  Nature.  For  this,  if  for  nothing 
else  the  collection  would  be  valuable.  But  it  will  be  welcomed  also  as  a  kind  of 
biography  of  its  author,  for  the  essays  and  the  memoir  support  one  another  and  are 
mutually  illuminative." — Scotsman. 

"  Mr.  Estlin  Carpenter's  memoir  of  his  fnther  is  just  what  such  a  memoir  should  be 
— a  simple  record  of  a  life  uneventful  in  itself,  whose  interest  for  us  lies  mainly  in  the 
nature  of  the  intellectual  task  so  early  undertaken,  so  strenuously  carried  on,  so 
a  nple  and  nobly  accomplished,  to  which  it  was  devoted." — London  Spectator. 

New  York:  D.  APPLETON  &  CO..  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


MEMOIRS  OF  PROF.  E.  L.  YOUMANS. 

■pDWARD    LIVINGSTON    YOUMANS,    Inter- 

J-^^    preter  of  Science  for  the  People.     A  Sketch  of  his  Life,  with 

Selections  from  his  Published  Writings,  and  Extracts  from  his 

Correspondence    with  Spencer,    Huxley,  Tyndall,  and    others. 

By  John  Fiske.     With  Two  Portraits.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.00. 

"Whether  as  a  memorial  ot  a  noteworthy  man,  or  as  a  record  01  a  most  important 
phase  of  intellectual  life  in  our  own  time,  the  volume  is  entirely  admirable,  and  must 
be  given  a  high  place  in  the  honorable  list  of  recent  biography." — Fhilaaeiphia 
Times. 

"His  life  was  at  once  inspiring  and  interesting.  His  career  gave  to  manhood  in 
America  an  ornament  as  well  as  a  potent  example.  While  he  lived,  he  helped  to 
enrich  thousands  of  lives.  Now  that  he  is  gone.  Prof.  P'iske's  beautiful  biography 
not  only  shows  us  how  noble  the  man  himself  was,  bnt  how  great  was  the  public 
loss,  and  how  precious  must  remain  the  possession  of  such  a  memory." — New  Y'ork 
Times. 

"  It  was  eminently  proper  that  the  biography  of  Mr.  Youmans  should  be  written, 
and  certainly  there  could  not  have  been  chosen  a  fitter  man  than  Mr.  Fiske  to  write 
it  An  acquaintance  dating  back  thirty  years  is  itself  a  qualification,  and  when  to  this 
are  added  Mr.  Fiske's  ability  and  the  lucid  method  which  characterizes  his  work,  the 
elements  for  a  satisfactory  memoir  are  all   present." — Philadelphia  Biilietin. 

"  To  enumerate  Youmans's  achievements  in  the  dissemination  and  interpretation 
of  scientific  truth  is  to  sum  up  the  record  of  an  epoch  from  the  view-point  of  the 
gradual  enll:J:htenment  of  the  American  people.  When  Mr.  Fiske  reminds  us  that 
the  discovery  and  propagation  of  trtith  are  functions  seldom  united  in  one  person,  and 
that  science,  like  religion,  must  have  its  apostles,  he  speaks  as  one  having  experience 
and  authority  ;  and  no  one  will  dispute  his  competence  to  define  and  npp'aud  the 
services  which  his  friend  rendered  in  the  capacity  of  a  breaker  of  the  brgad  of  science 
to  the  multitude." — Sew  y'ork  Sun. 

"  The  selection  of  Prof.  John  Fiske  as  the  biographer  of  the  late  Prof.  Youmans 
was  the  best  thing  that  could  be  made.  Prof  Youmans  has  done  more  for  the  dis- 
semination of  scientific  information,  and  the  cultivation  of  a  taste  for  such  knowledge, 
than  any  other  American  of  his  day." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"  We  shall  not  be  misunderstood  as  agreeing  with  all  the  views  recorded  here  by 
Prof.  Youmans,  from  whom  we  were  often  compelled  to  differ  while  he  lived,  when  we 
say  that  we  have  read  the  book  with  great  interest,  and  are  thankful  that  one  who 
truly  and  unselfishly  labored  in  the  cause  of  popular  science  has  so  worthy  a  memo- 
rial."— Neiii  York  Observer. 

"He  had  the  broad  democratic  spirit,  and  the  absolute  unselfishness  which  it 
reveals  at  every  moment  and  in  every  act  of  his  life ;  and  Mr.  Fiske  has  written  a  biog- 
raphy which  is  tender  andtrue,  and  rich  and  strong.  To  it  are  appended  some  of  his 
writings  which  have  a  fitting  place  here,  and  fully  illustrate -his  mental  gifts  and  con- 
victions."— Boston  Herald. 

"  Edward  Livingston  Youmans  was  a  remarkable  character,  and  the  world  could 
ill  afford  to  lack  a  history  of  his  life.  Fortunately,  the  best  biographer  possible  has 
undertaken  to  write  that  history,  and  all  thoughtful  readers  may  rejoice  thereat ;  for 
John  Fiske  came  to  this  task  well  fitted  in  every  way  by  his  intimate  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Youmans,  extending  through  many  years." — Chicago  Inier-Oeean. 

"Prof.  John  Fiske  has  performed  a  labor  of  love  for  the  friend  whose  name  is  its 
title,  and  one  of  whose  closest  intimates  he  was.  The  volume  is  a  good  example  of 
friendly  but  not  unwholesomely  laudatory  biography." — Boston  Congregationalist. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


T 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


HE  ICE  AGE  IN  NORTH  AMERICA,  and  lis 
Bearings  upon  the  Antiquity  of  Man.  By  G.  Frederick 
Wright,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  F.  G.  S.A.,  Professor  in  Oberlin 
Theological  Seminary;  Assistant  on  the  United  States  Geo- 
logical Survey.  With  an  appendix  on  "  The  Probable  Cause 
of  Glaciation,"  by  Warren  Upiiam,  F.  G.  S.  A.,  Assistant  on 
the  Geological  Surveys  of  New  Hampshire,  Minnesota,  and 
the  United  States.  New  and  enlarged  edition.  With  150  Maps 
and  Illustrations.     8vo,  625  pages,  and  Index.     Cloth,  $5.00. 

''  Not  a  novel  in  all  the  list  of  this  year's  publications  has  in  it  any  pages  of  more 
thrilling  interest  than  can  be  found  in  this  book  by  Professor  Wright.  There  is  noth- 
ing pedantic  in  the  narrative,  and  the  most  serious  themes  and  startling  discoveries  are 
treated  with  such  charming  naturalness  and  simplicity  that  boys  and  girls,  as  well  as 
their  seniors,  will  be  attracted  to  the  story,  and  find  it  difficult  to  lay  it  aside." — Sew 
York  yojirfial  of  Commerce. 

"  One  of  the  most  absorbing  and  interesting  of  all  the  recent  issues  in  the  depart- 
ment of  popular  science." — C/u'ca£'i>  Herald. 

"  Though  his  subject  is  a  very  deep  one,  his  style  is  so  very  unaffected  and  per- 
spicuous that  even  the  unscientific  reader  can  peruse  U  with  intelligence  and  profit.  !n 
reading  such  a  book  we  are  led  almost  to  wonder  that  so  much  that  is  scientific  can  be 
put  in  language  so  comparatively  simple." — Nevi  York  Observer. 

"The  author  has  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the  most  important  phenomena  of  the  Ice 
age  on  this  continent  from  Maine  to  Alaska.  In  the  work  itself,  clement.iry  description 
is  combined  with  a  broad,  scientific,  and  philosophic  method,  without  abandoning  for 
a  moment  the  purely  scientific  character.  Professor  Wright  has  contrived  to  gi\  e  tl'C 
whole  .1  philosophical  direction  which  lends  interest  and  inspiration  to  it,  and  which  in 
the  chapters  on  Man  and  the  Glacial  Period  rises  to  something  like  dramatic  intensity." 
—The  hidefindoit. 

" .  .  .  To  the  great  advance  that  has  been  made  in  late  years  in  the  accuracy  and 
cheapness  of  processes  of  photographic  reproduction  is  due  a  fiiriher  signal  advantage 
that  Dr.  Wright's  work  possesses  over  his  predecessors'.  He  has  thus  been  able  to 
illustrate  most  of  the  natural  phenomena  to  which  he  refers  bv  views  taken  in  the  field, 
many  of  which  have  been  generously  loaned  by  the  United  States  Geological  Survey, 
in  some  cases  from  unpublished  material ;  and  he  has  admirably  supplemented  them  by 
numerous  maps  and  diagrams." — The  Nation. 

J\/fAN  AND   THE  GLACIAL   PERIOD.      By  G. 
•i-'-i   Frederick    Wright,   D.  D.,   LL.  D.,   author   of   "The    Ice 

Age  in  North  America,"  "  Logic  of  Christian  Evidences,"  etc. 

International  Scientific  Series.      With  numerous  Illustrations. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 
"It  may  be  described  in  a  word  as  the  best  summary  of  scientific  conclusions  con- 
cerning the  question  of  man's  antiquity  as  affcctej  by  his  known  relations  to  geological 
time. " — Philadelpltia  Press. 

"  The  earlier  chapters  describing  glacial  action,  and  the  traces  of  it  in  North  Amer- 
ica—especially the  defining  of  its  limits,  such  as  the  terminal  moraine  of  the  great 
movement  itself-are  of  great  interest  and  value.  The  maps  and  diagrams  are  of  much 
assistance  in  enabling  the  reader  to  grasp  the  vast  extent  of  the  movement."— Xt^wi/t;;* 
S/eetittor. 

New  York  :  D.  APPLE  ION  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.   APPLETON  &   CO.'S   PUBLICATIONS. 


J  J  HEALTH  AND  PROGRESS.  A  Critical  Exam- 
^^  ination  of  the  Labor  Problem.  The  Natural  Basis  for  Indus- 
trial Reform,  or  How  to  Increase  Wages  without  Reducing 
Profits  or  Lowering  Rents  :  the  Economic  Philosophy  of  the 
Eight-Hour  Movement.  By  George  Gunton.  i2mo.  Paper, 
50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  The  reader  will  find  a  statement  of  the  labor  problem  as  founded  upon  the  eternal 
principles  that  underlie  and  the  laws  which  govern  human  prepress,  not  only  throc.i  h 
the  wages  system,  where  eight  hours  are  practicable  and  feasible,  but  the  laws  \ylnch 
govern^social  evolution  in  all  its  stages,  from  savagery  to  the  highest  phases  of  en  iliza- 
tion.  ■ — Christian  at  Work. 

SPEECHES  AND  ADDRESSES  OF  WILLIAM 

^       McKINLE  Y.     From  his  Election  to  Congress  to  the  Present 

Time.     Compiled  by  Joseph   P.  Smith.      With    Portraits    en 

Steel  of  the  Author  and  Others.     8vo,  650  pages.     Cloth,  $2.00. 

These  selections,  sixty-five  in  number,  embrace  a  wide  range  of  topics  of  absorbing 
public  interest,  and  include  twenty-five  speeches  devoted  to  the  tariff  question  m  all  iis 
aspects,  and  others  on  silver,  Federal  elections,  pensions,  and  the  public  debt,  civil- 
service  reform,  the  Treasury  surplus  and  the  purchase  of  bonds,  the  direct  tax  bill, 
etc.  Ihe  orator  whose  views  are  thus  presented  is  the  best  authority  of  his  party  on 
most  of  the  matters  considered.  An  elaborate  analytical  Index  gives  the  volume  an 
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student  of  whatever  political  faith. 

ATURAL  RESOURCES  OF  THE  UNITED 
STA  TES.  By  Jacob  Harris  Patton,  A.  M.,  Ph.  U  ,  au- 
thor of  "  Four  Hundred  Years  of  American  History,"  etc.  Re- 
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"A  valuable  summary  of  our  native  wealth.  It  treats  not  only  of  the  precious 
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on  irrigation,  health  resorts,  resources  in  water  power  and  in  lands.  I  he  section  on 
our  fisheries  is  deeply  interesting,  and  contributes  fresh  sce.iesto  the  general  panorama 
of  our  national  prosperity.  .  .  .  Nn  reader  of  this  work  can  consistently  despair  ot  the 
future  of  the  great  republic." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

C  TUDIES  IN  MODERN  SOCIALISM  AND  LA- 

^       BOR  PROBLEMS.     By  T.  Edwin   Brown,  D.  D.     i2mo. 

Cloth,  $1.25. 
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ATTfr  EDITION  OF  PROF.   HUXLEY'S  ESSAYS. 

COLLECTED  ESSA  YS.  By  Thomas  H.  Huxley. 
New  complete  edition,  with  revisions,  the  Essays  being  grouped 
according  to  general  subject.  In  nine  volumes,  a  new  Intro- 
duction accompanying  each  volume.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.25  per 
volume. 

Vol.  I.— method   AND   RESULTS. 

Vol.  II.— DARWIXIAXA. 

Vol.  III.— science  AND   EDUCATION. 

Vol.  IV.— SCIENCE  AND   HEBREW  TRADITION. 

Vol.  v.— SCIENCE  AND   CHRISTIAN   TRADITION. 

Vol.  VI.— HUME. 

Vol.  VII.— MAN'S   PLACE   IN   NATURE. 

Vol.  VIII.— DISCOURSES,    BIOLOGICAL  AND  GEOLOGICAL. 

Vol.  IX.— evolution  AND  ETHICS,  AND  OTHER  ESSAYS. 

"  Mr.  Huxley  has  covered  a  vast  variety  of  topics  during  the  last  quarter  of  a 
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note  the  immense  territory  which  he  has  explored.  To  read  these  books  carefully 
and  studiously  is  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  most  advanced  thought 
on  a  large  number  of  topics." — New  York  Herald. 

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the  books  will  be  well  in  the  reach  of  the  investigator.  .  .  .  The  revisions  are  the  last 
expected  to  be  made  by  the  author,  and  his  introductions  are  none  of  earlier  date 
than  a  few  months  ago  [1893I,  so  they  may  be  considered  his  final  and  most  authorita- 
tive utterances." — Chicago  Times. 

"  It  was  inevitable  that  his  essays  should  be  called  for  in  a  completed  form,  and  they 
will  be  a  source  of  delight  and  profit  to  all  who  read  them.  He  has  always  commanded 
a  hearing,  and  as  a  master  of  the  literary  style  in  writing  scientific  essays  he  is  worthy 
of  a  place  among  the  great  English  essayists  of  the  day.  This  edition  of  his  essays 
will  be  widely  read,  and  gives  his  scientific  work  a  permanent  form." — Boston  Heraui. 

"A  man  whose  brilliancy  is  so  constant  as  that  of  Prof.  Huxley  will  always  com- 
mand readers;  and  the  utterances  which  are  here  collected  are  not  the  least  in  weiglit 
and  luminous  beauty  of  those  with  which  the  author  has  long  delighted  the  readmg 
world." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"The  connected  arrangement  of  the  essays  which  their  reissue  permits  brings  into 
fuller  relief  Mr.  Huxley's  masterly  powers  of  exposition.  Sweeping  the  suViject-malter 
clear  of  all  logomachies,  he  lets  the  light  of  common  day  fall  upon  it.  He  shows  that 
the  place  of  hypothesis  in  science,  as  the  starting  point  of  verification  of  the  phenomena 
to  be  explained,  is  but  an  extension  of  the  assumptions  which  underlie  actioTis  in  every- 
day affairs;  and  that  the  method  of  scientific  investigation  is  only  the  method  which 
rules  the  ordinary  business  of  life." — London  Chronicle. 


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EVOLUTION   SERIES,  NOS.  i  TO  17. 

Popular  Lectures  a7zd  Discussions  before  the  Brooklyn  Ethical  Association. 


E 


VOLUTION    IN    SCIENCE,    PHILOSOPHY, 

AND  ART.     With  3  Portraits.     Large  i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.00, 

CONTENTS. 


Alfred Russ'l  Wallace.     By  Edward  D. 

Cope,  Ph.  D. 
Ernst    Hacckel.         By    Thaddeus    B. 

Wakeman. 
The  Scienti/ic  Method.     By  Fkancis  E. 

Abbott,  Ph.  D. 
Herbert  Spencer's  Synthetic  Philosophy. 

By  Benjamin  F.   Underwood. 
Evolution  of  Chemistry .     By  Robert  G. 

Eccr.ES,  M.  D. 
Evolution    of   Electric    and    IMagnetic 

Physics.        By    Arthur     E.     Ken- 

NEI.LY. 

Evolution    of   Botany.        By    Fred    J. 

WULLING,    Ph.  G. 

Zoology   as   related  to   Evolution.       By 
Rev.  John  C.  Kimball. 


Form  and  Color  in  Nature.      By  WiL= 

liam  Potts. 
Optics  as  related  to  Evolution.     By  L.  A. 

W.  Alleman,  M.  D. 
Evolution  of  A  rt.     By  John  A.  Taylor. 
Evolutioti   of  A  rchitecture.         By   Rev. 

John  W.  Chadwick. 
Evolution  of  Sculpture.    By  Prof.  Thomas 

Davidson. 
Evolution  of  Painting.     By  Forrest  P. 

Rundell. 
Evolution    of   Music.       By  Z.    Sidney 

S.\MPS0N. 
Life   as    a    Fine    Art.        By   Lewis    G. 

Janes,  M.  D. 
The  Doctrine  of  Evolution  :  its  Scope  and 

Influence.     By  Prof.  John  Fiske. 


"  The  addresses  include  some  of  the  most  important  presentations  and  epitomes  pub- 
lished in  America.  They  are  all  upon  impnrtant  subjects,  are  prepared  with  great  care, 
and  are  dehvered  for  the  most  part  by  highly  eminent  authorities." — Public  Upinion. 


M. 


EVOLUTION    SERIES,  NOS.  18  TO  34. 

AN  AND    THE    STATE.     Studies    in  Applied 
Sociology.     With  Index.     Large  i2mo.     Cloth,  $2  00. 


contents, 

The  Duty  of  a  Public  Spirit.  By  E. 
Benjamin  Andrews,  D.  D.,LL.  D. 

The  Study  of  Applied  Sociology.  By 
Robert  G.  Eccles,  M.  D. 

Representative  Government.  By  Edwin 
D.  Mead. 

Suffrage  and  the  Ballot.  By  Daniel  S. 
Remsen. 

The  Land  Problem.  By  Prof  Otis  T. 
Mason. 

The  Problem  of  City  Government.  By 
Dr.  Lewis  G.  Janes. 

Taxation  and  Revenue :  The  Free- 
Trade  View.  By  Thomas  G. 
Shearman. 

Taxation  and  Revenue  :  The  Protec- 
tionist View.  By  Prof  George 
Gunton. 


The  Monetary   Problem.      By   William 

Potts. 
The  Immigration  Problem.     By  Z.  Sid- 
ney Sampson. 
Evolution   of  the  Afric-A>ne}-ican.      By 

Rev.  Samuel  J.  Barrows. 
The   Race  Problem   in   the   South.      By 

Prof  Joseph  Le  Conte. 
Education   and   Citizenship.        By    Rev. 

John  W.  Chadwick 
The  Dentocratic  Party.     By  Edward  M. 

Shepard. 
The  Republican ' Paj-ty.     By  Hon.   Ros- 

WELL  G.   Horr. 
The  htdependent  in  Politics.      By  John 

A.  Tayior. 
Moral  Questions  in  Politics.      By  Rev. 

John  C.  Kimball. 


"These  studies  in  applied  sociology  are  exceptionally  interesting  in  their  field." — 

Cincinnati  TitJies-Star. 

"  Will  command  the  attention  of  the  progressive  student  of  politics." — Pittsburg 
Chronicle-  Telegraph. 

Separate  Lectures  from  either  volume,  lo  cents  each. 


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us  all  barbarians  is  probably  not  denser  in  his  prejudices  than  most  of  us  are  about  our 
Southern  continent  W'e  are  content  not  to  know,  there  seeming  to  be  no  reason  why 
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TN  AND  OUT  OF  CENTRAL  AMERICA ;    and 

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adventures  of  the  central  figures,  who  have  all  the  daring  ingenuity  and  luck  cf  Mr. 
Verne's  heroes.  Mr.  Astor  uses  history  to  point  out  what  in  his  opinion  science  may 
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D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

EVOLUTION   SERIES,   NOS.  35   TO  48. 
JOACrORS    IN    AMERICAN    CIVILIZATION : 

•L  STUDIES  IN  APPLIED  SOCIOLOGY.  Popular  Lectures 
and  Discussions  before  the  Brooklyn  Ethical  Association. 
i2mo.  Cloth,  $2.00.  Separate  Lectures,  in  Pamphlet  Form, 
10  cents  each. 

This  volume  is  uniform  with  the  two  previous  volumes  of  the 
series,  entitled  respectively  "  Evolution  in  Science  and  Art "  and 
"Man  and  the  State." 

CONTENTS. 

35.  The  Nation's  Place  in   Civilization.       By  CHARLES  De  Garmo, 

Ph.  D.,  President  of  Swarthmore  College. 

36.  N^atural  Factors  in   American    Civilization.      By  Rev.   John  C. 

Kimball. 

37.  What  America  Owes  to  the  Old  World.     By  A,  Emerson  Palmer. 
3S.   War  and  Progress.     By  Dr.  Lewis  G.  Janes. 

39.  Interstate  Commerce.     By  Robert  W.  Tayler. 

40.  Foreign  Commerce.     By  Hon.  William  J.  Coombs. 

41.  The  Social  and  Political  Status  of  Woman.      By   Rev.   John  \V. 

Chadwick. 

42.  The  Economic  Position  of  Wotnan.      By   Miss    Caroline    B.    Le 

Row. 

43.  Evolution  of  Penal  Methods  and  Institutions.      By  James   Mc- 

Keen. 

44.  Evolution  of  Charities  and  Charitable   Institutions.       By    Prof. 

Amos»G.  Warner,  Ph.  D.,  Superintendent  of  Public  Charities, 
Washington,  D.  C. 

45.  The  Drink  Problem.      By  t.  D.  Crothers,  M.  D.,  Editor  of  the 

"  Quarterly  Journal  of  Inebriety." 

46.  The  labor  Problem.      By  Rev.  Nicholas  P.  Oilman,  Editor  of 

the  "  New  World." 

47.  Political  Aspects  of  the  labor  Problem.     By  Jeremiah  W.  Sul- 

livan. 

48.  The  Philosophy  of  History.      By  Rev.  E.   P.   Powell,  Author  of 

"Our  Heredity  from  God,"  etc. 

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knowledge  some  of  the  largest  subjects  uhlch  cin  occupy  the  niind^i  of  thoughtful 
men.  It  has  found  students  and  thinkers  who  are  equal  to  this  task,  and  here  we  have 
some  of  the  best  work  on  subjects  of  the  highest  meaning  that  has  been  done  by 
Americans." — Bvston  Herald. 


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I  i^a/ttAi 


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